
Qass 
Book. 




©f^fi^i i,piifi»f . 



SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

OR, 

JOSIE, THE MeROINE OF FlORENCE 



FOUR YEARS OF BATTLE AND IMPRISONMENT. 

Richmond, Atlanta, belle isle, andersontille 

and florence, 



S0mplcte Sistorg of all ^out^crn prisons, 

EMBEACINO A 

THRILLING EPISODE OF ROMANCE AND LOYE. 



MORGAN E. DOWLING, 



"We speak tbo truth, though it shake tha uaiverse.' 



DETROIT: 

published by WILLIAM ^GEAHAM, 

Jl BATES ST. 

1870. 



£nt9r«d «c«ording to Act >{ Congress, in the year 1S70, by 
, MORGAN E. BOWLING, 

Ib the United States District Clerk's Office of the Eastern District of Michi^aji. 



^n"i-v- 



William E. Eael, 

iroOD ZNOKATXB. 

OXTBOIT. 



THE MEMORY OF JOSIE. 

THE LOVED AND LOST; 

iND TO THE DEAD UNION SOLDIERS WHO PERISHED IN SOUTHERN PRISONS 
I, A COMPANION CF ALL THEIR MISFORTUNES, SAVE L'LATH, DEDI- 
CATE THIS WORK. MAY IT AT LEAST FAINTLY TELL THF 
STORY OF THE BARBARISM OF SOUTHERN REBELS, 
AND THE GALLANTRY AND PATIENt E OF 
UNION SOLDIERS. 

K. E. D. 



What scenes appear where'er I turn my view ! 
The dear ideas, where'er I fly, pursue. 
Rise in the grave, before the altar rise. 
Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. 
I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee. 
Thy image steals between my God and me. 
Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear. 
With every bead I drop too soft a tear. 
When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll. 
And swelling organs lift the rising soul. 
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, 
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight . 
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, 
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. 

Pope' a El 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



PASl. 

FRONTISPIECE, - - . . 1 

CHARGE OF THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN AT SOUTH MOUN- 
TAIN, 22^ 

MY CAPTURE, 

BELLE ISLE, . . - -48 

THE OLD FLAG IN SIGHT, - - 92 

INTERIOR VIEW OF ANDERSONVILLE, 97 

OUR CONFLICT WITH THE GUARD, 107 

THE GRAVE YARD AT ANDERSONVILLE, 134 

THE DEAD LINE, - 170 

PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR, - 223 

THE SPREAD EAGLE STOCKS, 262 

OUR MEETING, 272 

MISS JOSIE SEYMOUR, 280 

HORSEBACK EXCURSION, - 287 

JOSIE'S INTERCESSION, - 297 

MY RE-IMPRISONMENT AT FLORENCE, 823 

MY PAROLE WITHDRAWN, 344 

JOSIE'S DEATH, - 804 



CONTENTS. 



PREFACE, Pagi 18 

CHAPTER I. 

THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN. 

The Author's Enlistment and his Motives. — The Movement to the 
Potomac. — South Mountain and Antietam. — Transfer West and 
the Siege of Knoxville. — His Capture 17 

CHAPTER II. 

OPENING REBEL ATROCITIES. 

Robbery of the Prisoners. — Spectacle of the Battle Field. — Miserable 
Rations Pro* ided. — The Haunted Court House 28 

CHAPTER III. 

ARRIVAL AT ATLANTA. 

The Prison and its Occupants. — I find Friends indeed. — Plan of 
Escape Frustrated. — Preparations for Moving to Belle Isle 34 

CHAPTER IV. 

DEPARTURE FOR RICHMOND. 

The Rebel Capitol.— The Belle Isle Prison.— Horrible SuflFerings of 

the Prisoners. __ 44 

CHAPTER V. 

REBEL BARBARITIES. 

Brutal Treatment of the Wounded Prisoners. — Modes of Torture 
Adopted. — The Wooden Horse. — Rumors of Exchange. — Thw 
Quantity of Rations Issued. — New Years's Day on the IsLmd. — 
The Hospital and the Dead. — The State of the South. »4 



vm coi^TEisrTs. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE. 

Delicious Dog Soup. — Horrible State of the Prison. — Abortive At- 
tempt to Escape. — Hoffman and myself are "Wounded. — We are 
sent to Castle Thunder _ _. 67 

CHAPTER VII. 

CORROBORATING TESTIMONY. 

Authoritative Evidence gathered from Richmond Prisoners. — A col- 
lection of Horrors 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 

AN EPITOME OF ADVENTURE. 

The Notorious Gen. Winder. — Our Removal to Anderson ville. — Tes- 
timony of Surgeon A. Chapel. — Hoffman and myself Escape from 
the Train. — We are Captured by Indians and Regain our Lib- 
erty. .-- --- - 80 

CHAPTER IX. 
OUR RE-CAPTURE. 
Skirmish with the Rebel Cavalry. — The old Flag in sight when Cap- 
tured. — We are sent to Atlanta again. — I see Miss Seymour for a 
moment. 92 

CHAPTER X. 

ANDERSON VILLE. 

The Stockade Prison. — The Swamp and River. — The Dead Line. — 
Great Throng of Prisoners. — Twenty-three days of Rain. — The 
Great Flood. — No Shelter. — Horrible Sufferings and Brutal Treat- 
ment 96 

CHAPTER XL 

THE ESCAPE AND RECAPTURE. 
The Southern Swamps. — The Runaway Slaves. — Their home in the 
Swamps. — Pursued by Bloodhounds. — Increased Brutality by 
Wirtz. — The Torture Racks. — Shooting of the Prisoners 106 

CHAPTER XIL 

THE DEAD HOUSE. 
A Rebel Sees a Ghost. — Capture of the 17th Michigan Regiment. — 
Sad News from Home. — Plan of Escape. — I am carried to th« 



COJ^TENTS. IX 

Dead House. — "Wirtz Again. — The Prison Raiders. — Execution of 
the Leaders. — Organization of 1 G Police 117 

CHAPTER XIIx. 

THE DEATH OP HOFFMAN. 

Tunnels dug by the Prisoners. — A successful Escape. 125 

CHAPTER XIV, 

BURYING THE DEAD. 

An Attack of the Scurvy. — Hideous Modes of Interment. — Terrible 
Violence of Wirtz. — The Heroic Conduct of a Catholic Priest. 132 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE MONSTER WIRTZ. 

His Early Life and Character. — The Treatment of Prisoners of War 
by the Rebels contrasted with the Usages of Civilized Nations, by 
Augustus Choate Hamlin. — Regulations of the United States. — 
Appearance of Anderson ville. — Brutal Order of Brig.-Gen. John 
H. Winder. __. 139 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE PRISONERS' MEMORIAL. 

Their Address from Andersonville to the President. — A Pathetic and 
Truthful Appeal .-_ _. 160 

CHAPTER XVII. 

TESTIMONY OF SOLDIERS. 
Additional Horrors Unfolded. — A Plain Unvarnished Tale 166 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE EVIDENCE FROM WIRTZ'S TRIAL. 

Quotations from Ambrose Spencer. — Facts Developed upon that Trial. 
— Sufferings at Andersonville. — Character of the Testimony. — The 
Stockade. — The Cook-House. — The Hospital. — The Dead-House. 
— Condition of the Stockade. — Testimony of Medical Officers. — 
Causes of Disease and Mortality. — Preventive Measures. — Colonel 
Chandler's Report. — -Colonel Gibb's Testimony. — Evidence of 
Rebel Officers and Soldiers. — Evidence of residents of Georgia. — 
Condition of the Hospital. — Charges and Specifications. — Addi- 
tional Testimony of Brutality. . 175 

2 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

AN EPISODE OF LOVE. 

I visit a Planter's House, and there again meet Miss Seymour. — A 
Union of Hearts 247 

CHAPTER XX. 

REMOVAL TO FLORENCE. 

The Grave Diggers Escape and are Recaptured. — The "Spread Eagle 
Stocks." — The Dead Line. — Fearful Misery among the Prisoners. 
I again Escape and reach Miss Seymour's Home. — Our Meet- 
ing — I take up my Residence in the Negro Cabins. — The Servant- 
Bob .._ 261 

CHAPTER XXI. 

AN EARTHLY PARADISE. 

My Residence at the Mansion. — The Loyal League. — Sweet Inter 
views and Moonlight Rides 277 

CHAPTER XXII. 

MR. SEYMOUR'S RETURN. 

Miss Seymour's Governess. — Return of Mr. Seymour. — His Discovery 
of me. — Angry Interview. — His Daughter's Prayers at last trium- 
phant __ . ". 289 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MY ILL-FATED MARRIAGE. 

I am Recaptured on the day of my "Wedding. — My Enlistment in the 
Rebel Service. — I Desert while on Guard Duty during the night 
— I see Josie again. — The Rebel Cavalry in Pursuit. — A Hurried 
Ride. — I become 111 in the Woods and Seek a Shelter 299 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A MOURNFUL INCIDENT. 

I Seek Refuge. — The Old Lady's Death. — I Prosecute my Journey, 
but am again Recaptured 305 

CHAPTER XXV. 

ONCE MORE FREE. 

1 am Brutally Treated on my Return to Florence. — Condition of the 
Prison. — Not a Friend Left. — I Escape to the Loyal League. 325 



CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

PAROLE AT FLORENCE. 

The Loyal Leaguer's Home. — His Beautiful Daughter, — My Recap- 
ture. — My Parole and Interviews with my Wife. — Mr. Seymour's 
Departure for Europe. 331 

CHAPTER XXVIL 

WAITING FOR EXCHANGE. 

My Parole "Withdrawn. — The Position of my Wife. — Continued Im- 
prisonment at Florence. — I Determine no longer to attempt Escape. 
— Pinal view of my Prison Experience.. 343 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

OTHER SOUTHERN PRISONS. 

The Leading Places of Confinement at the South not already Des- 
cribed. — Treatment of the Officers. — Junius Henri Browne on the 
Treatment of the Prisoners at Salisbury. — Intense Suffering and 
Wholesale Murder of the Captives. — Pen Pictures of the Prison. 
— Agonizng Scenes. — Enlistment of our Soldiers in the Rebel 
Service. — Shuddering Strangeness of the Past. — The Secretary of 
War Respionsible for the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives... 353 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE TESTIMONY OF OTHER AUTHORS. 

Corroborative Evidence. — Junius Henri Browne's Description of Im- 
prisonment. — Testimony of Capt. W. W. Glazier. — Mrs. A. P. 
Hanaford and Lieut. Colonel Cavada. — The Sanitary Commission's 
Report. — Experience of Ira E. Forbes. — Evidence of the Rebels 
Themselves. — Albert D. Richardson at Salisbury. — Report of the 
Committee of Inquiry 374 

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE REBEL PLOT. 

The Argument of Benson J. Lossing. — The Views of Senator How- 
ard, of Michigan 391 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

VALUABLE DOCUMENTS. 

Medical Report of Dr. Ellerslie Wallace. — The Opinion of Reliable 
Scientific Authorities. — Treatment of the Rebel Prisoners by the 



XU CONTENTS, 

United States contrasted with the Treatment of the Union Pris- 
oners by the Rebel Authorities. — Letter of Major General Butler 
on thb Exchange Question 'il*^ 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE END AT LAST. 

I am Exchanged Dec. 13. — The famous City of Charieston. — My 
Return to my Home. — Visit to New York and Philadelphia. — 
Life and its Misfortunes — Dissipation and the Result. — Our 
Young Ladies and Society, — Young Men and Business. — Re- 
union with my Regiment. — Army Life. — The Poetry and Reality 
of War. — How will Posterity look upon those Military Burial 

Places? 440 

CHAPTER XXZIIL 
THE GRAND REVIEW. 

Close of the War. — The Great Review of the Armies. — The City of 
Washington. — My Discharge from the Army 490 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

JOSIE'S DEATH. 

My Return to Florence and Restoration to my Wife. — Return to the 
North. — Her Sinking Away and Death 498 



PREFACE 



Now I will unclasp a secret book. 
And to your quick conceiving discontents 
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; 
As full of peril and adventurous spirit. 
As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud. 
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 

Shakspean. 

In this book I, a private first, and subsequently a 
sergeant in the Seventeenth Regiment Michigan Volun- 
teers, having served throughout the whole of the great 
civil war, and having experienced alike the fury of the 
enemy in great battles, and their cruelty towards the 
prisoners who were so unfortunate as to fall into their 
hands, shall tell a plain, unadorned story of how we, 
the common soldiers, fought and how we suffered. 

The theme is one which can never die nor ever grow 
old. It stands out gigantic from the page of our history, 
the greatlragedy of the American Nation. As its events 
and character become more thoroughly understood, in- 
terest in everything which appertains to it deepens, and 
the nation constantly seeks new light and fuller informa- 
tion regarding the grand theme. 

Much has already been written concerning the Rebei 
lion, its military, political and prison phases, but all 
these accounts are very imperfect in a great measure, 
because they were compiled so soon after the close of the 



14 PKUrACB. 

war that adequate time had not been given for the col- 
lection of authentic materials, and for the dying out of 
sectional prejudice, which greatly disfigures many of the 
books upon this subject. 

I had long hoped that the vacancy in the field occa- 
sioned by the want of a full and correct account of the 
suiferings of the private Union soldiers in the rebel pri- 
sons, might be filled by some other person, and that I 
might thus avoid the labor of so great a work. But, 
inasmuch as not one has done this, I feel it to be a sacred 
duty to the soldiers who died in imprisonment at the 
South, to the cause of humanity, and to the Michigan 
Volunteers, of whose unsurpassed gallantry and heroism 
luring the war nothing has been written, that the full 
"acts concerning the Southern prisons should be depicted. 

For more than a year I was, myself, confined in the 
three great prisons of the South — Bell Isle, Andersonville 
and Florence — and in this work I first narrate my own 
personal experience of the barbarism which characterized 
the Confederates in their treatment of captives; and though 
the chapter of misery is a dark one, and the conclusion 
is unavoidable that the acts of the rebels were the pro- 
duct of a deep and diabolical plot to torture and murder 
the Union prisoners, yet this conclusion is no hasty one, 
nor the ofi'spring of passion and prejudice. My own 
narrative is here supported by an accumulation of evi- 
dence from all the best authorities upon this subject, 
which can leave no doubts remaining in the mind of 
any reader. Nearly five years after the close of the war, 
when the feelings which attended the strife have in great 
measure died away, every person perusing this book 
must be entirely satisfied of the character of the leaders 
and people of the South during the conflict, and of the 



PREFACE. 

anexampled cruelty and ferocity which they exhibited 
in carrying it on. And in framing this dark conclusion, 
I do it with no desire to inflame sectional passions, or 
again to rouse that bitterness between North and South 
which I trust is buried forever. But it is fitting that 
future generations should know the truth, and the whole 
truth, concerning this most important matter. This I 
shall attempt to convey in this volume, and for the atro- 
cities of the war and its accompanying prisons, the South 
must answer to its God. I earnestly trust that among 
the coming generation of the Southern people, the spirit 
of barbarism which was born of and fostered by slavery, 
may indeed be found extinct. 

My personal narrative is a truthful record of events 
as they passed, and the somewhat romantic episode 
which accompanies it is but the plain detail of a beauti- 
ful, but sad, chapter in my life, which will haunt my 
memory forever. In this passage of happiness and love, 
I am not alone among the Northern soldiers who became 
forcibly domiciled at the South. There were many others 
who formed friendships as strong, won love as enduring ; 
let us hope their bliss was of longer duration. 

And now I commend my story to the gpntle and just 
judgment of an enlightened public, confident that my 
motives will be appreciated, and that the completeness 
and fairness of the account here given will be recognized. 
I humbly trust, also, that my effort to furnish to the 
world full and accurate information upon this subject 
may be respected by the future. The collection of the 
evidence by which my statements has been supported, 
has been a work of great labor, and has cost much time. 
On that account the work now is more complete. I trust 
it may through all future time be found a standard 



16 PREFACE. 

authority upon the dark, but all-interesting subject. It 
embraces the testimony of historians, of all the best 
authors who have written upon the theme, of rebel offi- 
cers, and of Union soldiers of all ranks, and may thus 
justly be deemed complete and unrivalled in its accuracy 
and fullness of detail. 

The Author. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN. 

The Author's Enlistment and His Motives. — The Movement to the 
Potomac. — South Mountain and Antietam. — Transfer West and the 
Siege of Knoxville. — His Capture. 

To fight in a just cause and for our country's glory. 
Is the best office of the best of men; 
And to decline when these motives urge. 
Is infamy beneath a coward's baseness. 

Harvard's Hegulus. 

Amot^g all the gallant regiments which upheld the 
janse of liberty and a united nation, during the great 
war of the Rebellion, probably none has won a more 
glorious or more highly deserved reputation than the 
Seventeenth Michigan Infantry, to which I had the honor 
to belong. Many circumstances contributed to my de- 
termination to enter the army. IN'otwithstanding my sit- 
uation was unusually pleasant in Detroit, where my home 
was at the breaking out of the war, and notwithstanding 
my future prospects were as brilliant as those of most 
young men engaged in commercial life, yet a love of ad- 
venture always entertained, and, still more, an affection 
for the country which had nurtured and cherished me, 
determined me to enter the army, and no more prom- 
ising regiment attracted attention than the Seventeenth, 
which was then in process of organization. I write this 
narration of my experience of, and sufferings in rebel 



18 BOITTHEEN PKISONS ; 

prisons, mainly because the histories formeriy written 
are those only of officers and newspaper correspondents, 
who, though doubtless subjected to many indignities 
and hardships, yet never experienced a tithe of the hard- 
ships undergone by the privates, and who have never 
had fully told their sufferings and trials. In these men 
whom the bone and sinew of the country gave to the 
army, the American people are as deeply interested as 
in the fate of their most gallant officers. 

Our regiment was swiftly filled up, the patriotic fever 
running high in view of the desperate struggle which 
had been going forward on the Peninsula between Gens. 
McClellan and Lee, and embracing nine hundred and 
eighty -two officers and men, it moved from its rendez- 
vous at Detroit, on the twenty-seventh day of August, 
1862, for the front, its immediate destination being the 
city of Washington. It was commanded by Col. Wm, 
A. Withington, a man of the most unquestioned bravery, 
and one whose after record proved as brilliant as that of 
any colonel in the army ; the other officers were, too, gen- 
tlemen of gallantry, and generally of decided skill and 
considerable experience. Indeed a pleasanter body of 
officers it would have been difficult to find in the army, 
and the rank and file was of the first order, so that great 
things were expected from the regiment, and it did not 
disappoint the anticipations of its friends. 

The march through the streets of Detroit, on the way 
to the steamer which was to convey the regiment to 
Cleveland, will long be remembered. The troops were 
excellently drilled and presented a magnificent appear- 
ance, completely filling the broad avenaes through 
which they passed, and the streets and sidewalks were 
crowded with ladies and citizens, admiring the noble dis- 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OP FLOEENOE. 19 

play, and bidding the regiment God speed in its career, 
while not a few gazed sadly on, reflecting on the fearful 
gaps which must be made in those gallant ranks ere the 
regiment should return to its native State, and sadly 
wondering whom of the brave men they should see on 
the return parade through the streets of Detroit. 

The regiment was, however, in high spirits, and by 
ten o'clock was all embarked on the Cleveland steamer. 
Cleveland was reached next morning, after a pleasant 
sail, and the troops were at once embarked on the cars 
for the city of Pittsburgh, Pa., which was reached on 
the evening of August twenty-eighth. A grand recep- 
tion was accorded to us here by the patriotic ladies and 
citizens of Pittsburgh, a handsome supper was served in 
the city hall, across the end of which there was inscribed 
this inscription: "Pittsburgh welcomes her country's 
defenders." It is a well known fact that the regiments 
which came from Michigan were a cause of no little sur- 
prise to those States in the east, where great numbers of 
troops were raised, and where the same discipline, per- 
fection of equipment, and general efficiency were rarely 
seen ; so that the utmost enthusiasm w-as always man- 
ifested whenever a Michigan or other regiment from the 
extreme Ncrthwestern States passed through the great 
cities. 

Pittsburgh being left that night, the morning light of 
Friday, August twenty-ninth, saw the regiment ap- 
proaching the National Capitol, which was then threat- 
ened by the triumphant rebels. Pope having been over- 
thrown in northern] Virginia, which was overrun by con- 
federate cavalry, while Gen. Lee was moving swiftly up 
the Shenandoah Valley and preparing to cross into, and 
excite insurrection in Maryland. 



20 SOUTHERN PBISONS , 

The regiment was ordered into camp near Washing- 
ton, and with one or two false alarms, we remained in- 
active for about a week, learning, meanwhile, of the final 
defeat of Pope, and Lee's intention of crossing into Mary- 
land and invading the North. At last, on the eighth of 
September, the welcome order to march came, and being 
relieved by the Twenty-Fourth Michigan Infantry, which 
left Detroit on the day subsequent to our departure, we 
broke up camp at Fort Baker, and marched through 
Washington at midnight, the favorite hour for moving 
troops in the vicinity of the Capitol, as their movements 
at that time excited less attention, and were the more 
likely to escape the notice of Secessionists and Rebel 
Spies. Daybreak found us well on the way to Leesburg, 
and it became known throughout the regiment that we 
were to join the Ninth Corps. On the tenth of Septem- 
ber we came up with the corps, and were assigned a pos- 
ition in its ranks. Major General Burnside being the 
commander, in which position he continued during a 
large j)art of the war, except when in charge of the whole 
army during the campaign of Fredericksburg. 

It was evident that heavy lighting, and probably a 
pitched battle, were not far distant, and passing rapidly, 
but quietly, through the villages of Brookville, Newmar- 
ket and Damascus, on the night of September twelfth, we 
reached the city of Frederick, Maryland, as the rear- 
guard of the rebel forces withdrew. This rear-guard was 
attacked and swiftly driven back towards the ridge of 
lofty hills which intervene between Frederick and Lees- 
burg, near which Lee's army was mainly concentrated. 
For the first time I and many of the regiment saw the 
realities of war, the dead of both armies lying unburied 
along the road by which the rebels retreated, but the 



' - OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 21 

rebel dead outnumbering the union dead fully three to 
one, muskets and other arms being scattered along the 
road side, and frightened dwellers momentarily expect- 
ing a great battle, and being prepared to fly with their 
families in case the conflict surged towards them. 

During most of September thirteenth we lay at Fred- 
erick, watching with intense interest, but great nonchal- 
ance for an untried regiment, the movements of Major 
Gen. Pleasanton, as with his cavalry and batteries he 
steadily forced the rear-guard over the Monocacu hills, 
where the puff's of smoke could clearly be seen, and the 
rattling of the flying batteries could plainly be heard. 
At four o' clock in the afternoon, however, came a sudden 
order to march, and we moved through Frederick, and 
struck the Sharpsberg turnpike, along which the enemy 
had retreated. The march was continued until mid- 
night, when the regiment was ordered into camp, and 
bivouacked for the night near Middletown. At early 
morning we were again on the move, and soon came on 
the right of the Confederates, who were posted in Tur- 
ner's Gap, and on the side of South Mountain, where we 
could distinguish the puff's of smoke, as their artillery 
fired down into the lower grounds, and threw shell, even, 
over our own lines. Our division was ordered to move 
to the left onto the old Sharpsberg road, leaving the 
road by which we had been advancing. When about 
half way up the mountain, the enemy appeared above us 
in strong force, and commenced a heavy fire of artillery 
and musketry upon our advancing column. The troops 
were at once formed into line across the road and ordered 
to lie down, in which position we remained for nearly five 
hours, until every man in the division was weary of in 
action, and anxious, at all hazards, to push forward and 



22 SOUTHERN PBISONS; 

meet the enemy in open battle. At last, about four 
o'clock in tlie afternoon the welcome order to move np 
the mountain came, and the line at once was pnt in mo- 
tion. Above us, near the crest of the mountain, behind 
two lines of strong stone fences and temporary breast- 
works, lay the rebel infantry, Drayton's South Caro- 
lina Brigade lying directly in front of our own regiment. 
The advance of our brigade was swift and regular, no 
firing characterizing its onward movement, though soon 
exposed to a deadly succession of volleys of musketry, 
and torn by shell and cannon shot ; but at length, when 
within easy musket range of the Confederates, the divi- 
sion opened a tremendous fire upon them, and for nearly 
an hour a deadly infantry contest was waged for the 
possession of the crest of the mountain, the key of the 
position, and which it was absolutely necessary to carry 
to secure a passage for the army to the vicinity of Sharps- 
berg, and to attempt the relief of Harper' s Ferry, which, 
however, had already fallen into the hands of Stonewall 
Jackson, a misfortune then unknown to the leaders of 
the Union forces. The regiment, at last, growing impa- 
tient at the undecisive nature of the musketry contest, 
rushed forward, charged over the two stone fences, utterly 
broke the rebel line, captured several hundred prison- 
ers, and utterly routed the enemy, having inflicted on 
them a loss far greater than that suffered by the Union 
forces, and hav,mg gained the position fought for, and 
cleared the way for the advancing Union colums. The 
Seventeenth Regiment had fought its first battle, had 
won imperishable renown, and acquired for itself tne 
sobriquet of the *' Stonewall Regiment," a title which it 
bore throughout the war. Its conduct was the more noic 
worthy, as it was a new regiment, having never been 



^sm\trk^^f'^'f 



nm: 








OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 23 

in action "before, associated with veteran regiments, and 
yet surpassing all in gallantry, dash and efficiency. 

Of my own feelings during this "battle, my first expe- 
rience of actual war, I need only say that after the first 
close clash of musketry, I thought of naught, save the 
fight and the necessity and possibility of driving the 
enemy over the hill. I shared in the general joy over 
the brilliant reputation which the regiment had won, and 
in the sorrow and pity for the fallen brave, of whom 
there were, alas, too many. 

Lying on our arms on the blood stained crest of the 
mountain during the night, and refreshing our wearied 
bodies as much as could be done under the circumstan- 
ces. On September fifteenth we moved down the other 
side of the mountain towards Sharpsberg, in the direction 
of which town the enemy had retired, and where it was 
already generally expected that the great battle was to 
be fought. During most of that night and the day of the 
sixteenth, we lay near Reedysville, it being clear that 
both armies were gathering together their forces and pre- 
paring for the dreadful struggle so soon to come. Sev- 
eral times during the night of the sixteenth we were 
moved into different positions, and the morning of the 
seventeenth, which will always be famous as the anni- 
versary of the great battle of Antietam, or Sharpsberg. 
found us posted upon the slope of Elk Ridge, about two 
miles from the village of Sharpsberg, and on the left of 
the Union line. "We saw the desperate conflict carried on 
by Hooker and Mansfield on the right, and took part 
with Burnside in his carrying the bridge, but on our side 
of the field undecisive success was achieved, and night 
closed over the bloody field where fully twelve thousand 
Union soldiers lay dying, dead or mutilated, and at least 



2^ BOTJTHEEN PKIS0TT3 ; 

an equal number of the enemy, with no results decisive 
of the contest, though many of the Union forces had not 
been engaged at all, and our army was certainly in the 
better condition to renew the contest. The failure to take 
advantage of the weakness and distress of the enemy, the 
uncertainty and delay, the escape of the foe, the reckless 
and almost criminal disaster at Edward's Ferry, where a 
handful of men thrown across the Potomac without sup- 
port were almost entirely destroyed by the enemy, the 
long delay when the river was finally crossed by the 
army, the march to the Rappahannock, and the removal 
of Gen. McClellan, are matters which are now a part of 
our history, and which spread a deep gloom over the 
whole country, increased only by the subsequent dis- 
asters of Fredericksburgli and Chancellorsville. 

After the battle of Fredericksburgh ensued one of 
those periods of inactivity which happen so frequently 
in the life of a soldier, and often continue so long. 
Both armies were exhausted by the terrific campaigns of 
the season just past, and went into a long camp, with 
the dark waters of the Rappahannock rolling between 
them, and separating the rival combatants, who would 
otherwise have inaugurated a winter' s campaign, and shed 
each other's blood on the snow and frozen hillsides. The 
camp of General Burnside's army was not devoid of at- 
tractions, and the soldiers whiled away the time enjoy- 
ably enough. On the fourteenth day of February, the 
Ninth Corps, to which my regiment was attached, started 
for the Peninsula, moving by rail to Acquia Creek, 
and thence by steamer to Newport News, going into 
camp on the river that has now become historic — the 
James. The line of camp was a line of battle, nearly 
three miles long, the difi'erent regimental grounds being 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OP FLOEENOE. 25 

regularly laid out into streets, adorned with evergreens, 
walks, borders, arches and ornamental shrubs. Here 
the regiment remained quietly until March 19, 1863, thus 
not taking part in the disastrous campaign of Chancel- 
lorsville. 

The orders which came on that day broke up the 
camp like snow dissolving before a warm spring sun, and 
within a few hours the regiment was on its way to Balti- 
more in transports. A very heavy northeast storm detained 
us in Hampton Roads, and we did not reach Baltimore 
till March twenty-second. An embarkation on the cars 
immediately followed, and journeying over the Baltimore 
and Ohio Railroad, and by steamers down the Ohio from 
Parkersville, Va., we arrived in Louisville, March twen- 
ty-sixth, and it became evident that we were to be trans- 
ferred to the army of the new commander, who was just 
beginning to attract notice. Gen. Grant, though for a 
period we were under the immediate command of other 
officers. March twenty-eighth, we moved down into 
Kentucky, arriving at Bardstown on the next day. April 
second we advanced to Lebanon, a beautiful little town, 
and April twenty- seventh we pushed still further south, 
arriving at Columbia on the twenty- ninth. After chasing 
the notorious John Morgan for several days, and hunting 
up guerillas for several weeks, we were suddenly ordered 
back to Lebanon, marching sixty-five miles in two days, 
and that, too, in heavy marching order, and under a 
summer sun, reaching Lebanon June fifth. 

Thence we moved at once to Louisville, and, crossing 
the Ohio, took cars for Cairo, HI., it being evident 
that at last we were to be under Grant personally, 
and aid him in his operations against Vicksburg. Ou 
passage through Lidiana and Illinois was a grand tri- 



26 SOITTHEEN PRISONS; 

nmpli, the inhabitants turning out almost en masse^ and 
welcoming "Burnside's Corps." A speedy and fortu- 
nate passage down the Mississippi "brought us to Haines 
Bluff, June seventeenth, and from that time till July- 
fourth, the date of the surrender of Yicksburg, we co- 
operated in the brilliant movements of Grant. After the 
capture of Pemberton and his army, the Ninth Corps 
was moved out to Jackson, to drive back or capture Joe 
Johnston. This officer, however, evacuated the city in 
haste, and retreated into the interior, and the Mississippi 
campaign having been brought to a triumphant conclu- 
sion, we were, August third, moved back to Cairo, thence 
to Cincinnati, and thence to Nicholasville, Ky., where 
Gen. Burnside again took command, having been absent 
from his corps during its operations in the Vicksburg 
campaign. 

Gen. Burnside was preparing for bis march on Knox- 
ville, and by successive journeys, sometimes marching 
on the roads, and sometimes moving on the cars for short 
distances, we reached Knoxville September twenty- 
fourth, and remained in front of the city in camp, occa- 
sionally making excursions against the enemy, until the 
month of November. For some days rumors had been 
floating about that Longstreet, with his corps of the 
army of Virginia, and some troops drawn from the 
army of Georgia, was about to invade Eastern Tennessee, 
and on November fourteenth the rumors received confir- 
mation by the order for the Seventeenth to break camp 
and march to Hough's Ferry. When we arrived on the 
ground we found the Twenty-Third Corps, which was 
also at Knoxville under Gen. Burnside, hotly engaged, 
and a part of Longstreet' s force abeady over the river. 
It seems at first to have been intended to attack the 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLOEENOE. 27 

troops who had already crossed, but for some reason this 
plan, which appeared to promise brilliant results, was 
abandoned, and the two corps were early in the morning 
put in full retreat, the brigade to which I was attached 
'sonstituting the rear-guard. It was desired to reach 
KnoxvDle, and the commander had determined to stand 
a siege until he should be relieved by Gen. Grrant. No 
sooner, however, had we got fairly onto the road than 
the rebels set out in close pursuit, and within a few hours 
came up with the rear-guard. From this point a running 
fight was maintained until we reached Turkey Creek, 
near Campbell's Station, where it became necessary for 
our brigade to make a stand, that the main body of the 
force might cross in safety. The latter object was at- 
tained, but at the cost of a desperate fight on the other 
shore, in which my regiment, consisting of the rear- 
guard, suffered heavy losses. At last the order to retire 
across the creek was brought to the weary rear-^ard, 
but too late for the safety of many of those who had 
kept the rebels at bay so long. Many were killed and 
wounded in the desperate rush which the rebels made on 
the retiring rear-guard, and myself and seventeen others 
were taken prisioners. 

In this action Capt. John Tyler, of our regiment, 
received a severe wound in the left hand, which after 
sometime it was found necessary to amputate, and he 
was therefore necessarily retired from active service. He 
is now Brevet Major in the Regular Army, and Acting 
Assistant Quartermaster General at Fort Wayne, Detroit. 
He was always a gallant officer, and has maintained that 
reputation both in the volunteer and regular service. 



S8 SOUTHEEN PEISONS. 



CHAPTER II. 

OPENING REBEL ATROCITIES. 

Robbery of the Prisoners. — Spectacle of the Battle Field. — Miserable 
Rations Provided. — The Haunted Court House. 

O, breasts of pity void ! t' oppress the weak. 
To point your vengeance at the friendless head. 
And with one mutual cry insult the fallen ! 
Emblem too just of man's degenerate race. 

«r*iUe'i Chase. 

Heretofore, the events which I have narrated have 
been those great features of the war with which 
every person in this country is to a great extent 
familiar, and I have consequently sketched them but 
briefly, and spoken but little of myself or the share I 
had in them, inasmuch as my part was but the same as 
that taken by thousands of others, and possessed no 
special interest ; but in the future my adventures were 
peculiar to myself, such as rarely fell to the lot of a 
prisoner, and I must shortly leave tne tale of the strug- 
gling Union and rebel armies, and tell the story of suf- 
fering, endurance and dearly bought patience, relieved, 
however, by some of the most endearing associations of 
my life, which have implanted memories in my heart 
never to be erased. 

At once, on our being captured, myself and several 
other unfortunates who had been taK:en, including 
eighteen of the Seventeenth, were marched to the rear of 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 29 

the rebel line and placed under gnard. Indeed, our 
guard soon grew to "be quite alarming from its size, 
caused by the fact that throughout the woods, and 
in an old house on the top of the hill to which we h ad 
been taken, were gathered scores of demoralized rebels, 
anxiously waiting for something to turn up which 
should give them an opportunity of seeming employed, 
and furnish an excuse for their not returning to a battle 
field altogether too exciting to suit their tastes. They 
therefore welcomed our advent with ill-concealed joy, 
and at once betook themselves to the task of guarding 
us, evincing an energy and alacrity that they thought 
must be acceptable to any officer. Their dreams of 
quiet and peace were, however, soon rudely broken in 
upon by the coming up of a captain, who peremptorily 
ordered them forward into the line of battle, at the same 
time making some exceedingly strong remarks neither 
complimentary to their courage nor patriotism. 

From the hill where we were stationed we could 
plainly see the varying fortunes of the battle in the 
valley at our feet, bordering the creek where the rebels 
made several desperate charges on the rear-guard, but 
were invariably repulsed, until the order for the whole 
Union forces to retire further, temporarily put a stop to 
it. Soon Longstreet ordered his forces forward in pur- 
suit, and we were left alone with our guard. First, all 
were plundered of their valuables, money, watches, 
rings, and even little keepsakes, the gifts of mother, 
sister or sweetheart. Next we were ordered by our 
captors to assist in carrying off the wounded and bury- 
ing the dead, a work not unpleasant to us, as it enabled 
us to be of service to many of the brave and suffering 
men of our own regiment and army. We cared as ten- 



30 SOUTHERN prisons; 

derly for them as the narrow means at hand would per- 
mit, and then set about performing the same offices for 
the enemy' s fallen. A small number of these, however, 
were found wounded. Most had been killed outright, 
being fatally shot while rushing close on to the Union 
rear guard. Those who were wounded were borne to 
the rear, and the dead of both armies were then hastily 
buried, yet so that the earth would protect their 
remains. It was nine o'clock at night when we had 
finished our sad labors, and no rations were served to 
us that night, but weary, hungry and cold, we threw 
ourselves down upon the ground, made memorable by 
the desperate battle which had there been fought, and 
sought to catch a few hours sleep, preparatory to the 
march southward, of which we had already been 
warned. 

Early in the morning we were awakened by heavy 
cannonading that told of fierce fighting on the road to 
Knoxville, and were informed by our guard that we 
should be moved South some six miles or so to the rear 
of the rebel forces after we should have drawn some 
rations. Both assurances, however, proved fallacious, 
no rations being received during the whole day, nor did 
we move at all, but passed another long, weary night 
on the ground, our future already growing darker in 
view of the brutality of our captors. At dawn we were 
ordered to prepare at once for a march south to Louden, 
a distance of twelve miles, and that no "rations could be 
obtained until our arrival there, none being available 
where we were. The prospect was not an encouraging 
one for half-famished men, who had already been worn 
down by long marches and severe fighting, and from 
many of whom their shoes had been plundered, and 



OB, JOSIB, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 31 

who had to travel in bare feet over rough roads, and 
who were in no condition to march at all. Many of the 
men broke down before Louden was reached, and must 
have been left, perhaps to perish, had it not been for the 
loving aid of comrades who supported them and bore 
them along, and already I began to revolve plans of 
escape from a captivity which was certain to be a slow 
torture, if not a speedy death, but the guard were all 
vigilant, experienced soldiers, and they allowed no 
opportunity to present itself of which I could then avail 
myself. 

We finally reached Louden about five o'clock in the 
afternoon, and were marched up to a large pile of corn 
which we on our retreat had set on fire, but which had 
been only partially consumed, and were ordered to draw 
our rations from this. A few ears of corn made a small 
ration for men who for four days had hardly eaten a 
morsel, but there was no resource, and the hungry men 
consumed half roasted corn with a gasto which told of 
the sufferings already endured from hunger, and car- 
ried away all each man could transport. For the night 
we were locked up in an old warehouse opposite the 
City Mills, and a strong guard was placed round the 
building. We were told that early in the morning we 
should be started for Dalton, and after mutual inter- 
change of views concerning the hard usage to which we 
had already been subjected, and the expression of a 
general fear that our sufierings had only begun, we fell 
asleep, thinking wearily of loved Northern homes and 
bitterly of the fortune which had cast us into the hands 
of Southern barbarians. 

Early on the morning of November 20th, we left 
Louden for Dalton by rail, and arrived there at even- 



39 souTHEE]^ prisons; 

ing, after a weary ride in cars resembling those in 
which cattle are shipped over second class railways in 
the South. All night we were confined in an old court 
honse some distance from the city, untenanted because 
for some reason the impression had prevailed among the 
citizens that the court house was haunted, some deed of 
violence having, (it was said,) been committed there 
years before. It seemed a lonely enough spot to make 
the story likely, and the building was steadily falling 
into ruins. No spirit, however, annoyed us save one 
that infected a man who was subject to attacks from the 
devil in the shape of fits, and who created a midnight 
panic by attacking me like a tiger, compelling me to 
raise the company in self-protection. 

At four o'clock in the morning of November twenty - 
first we were aroused by the commanding officer, and 
ordered to draw our rations. They consisted of a pint 
of flour to each man, which we baked in small bake ov- 
ens used by the slaves for baking their corn dodgers in. 
Again we were huddled closely together in the misera- 
ble cars, where the air was almost sufi'ocating, and start- 
ed south towards Atlanta. In a few hours my compan- 
ions who had eaten the bread made from the wheat 
furnished them were taken violently ill, and at first all 
thought they had been poisoned. It turned out, how- 
ever, that the wheat from M^hich the flour was made, 
was decayed, and unfit utterly for food, therefore, with 
true Southern manliness it had been furnished to help- 
less prisoners. I had the good fortune to abstain from 
partaking of my loaf, and exchanged it for a corn cake 
with a member of the guard, by which I fancy I was 
the gainer. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOIlsrE OF FLOEEITOE. 83 

On tlie journey to Atlanta we were very closely 
guarded, but tliere were many occasions during tlie 
night when we might have jumped from the cars through 
the windows. None of us then risked it, but it was a 
golden opportunity thrown away, as it is always com- 
paratively easily for captives to escape while in transit^ 
and exceedingly difficult when once within the walls 
of a military prison. 



dA UOUTHEEN PRISONS. 



CHAPTER III. 

ARRIVAL AT ATLANTA. 

The Prison and its Occupants. — I find Friends indeed. — Plan of 
Escape Frustrated. — Preparations for Moving to Belle Isle. 

Friendship has a power 

To soothe affliction in her darkest hour. 

n. K. White. 

On the evening of November twenty-second, we 
readied Atlanta, a city of wliicli we had then heard 
much, and which subsequently became most famous in 
the war. It is a pretty town, as we afterwards found out, 
though on the night we arrived, there was not much 
opportunity for observation, as we were taken at once 
to a prison which was called by its occupants "Deserters' 
Home," and which was the only name I ever heard 
applied to it, being probably so called because it had 
been chietly used for the confinement of deserters. 
Indeed, it was now divided into two wards by a parti- 
tion running through the center, one apartment being 
filled with Confederate convicts and deserters, and the 
other with Union prisoners. 

I cannot say that I found Deserters' Home an unen- 
durable place of captivity, though some of its arrange- 
ments were unfit for the accommodation of human 
beings. The commander, Captain Ceorge Walker, 
though heartily enlisted in the Confederate cause, was 
still kind and courteous to the prisoners, and in many 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOITfE OF FLORENCE. 35 

wa,ys mitigated their sufferings, bnt the sleeping apart- 
ment was crowded to excess with filthy men and infested 
with vermin, and the food was both totally insufficient 
in quantity and of the coarsest quality. 

During my imprisonment at xltlanta, which was but 
for a few days, my attention was attracted by the pleas- 
ing countenance of a young fellow, also a prisoner, who 
gave me his namg as Frank Holmes, and said that he 
belonged to an Indiana regiment. Only two days, 
however, had passed when it was discovered by the 
rebel surgeon in charge of the prison that my new 
acquaintance was a pretty girl disguised in a Union uni- 
form, and who, upon being detected, admitted her sex, 
and stated that in her disguise she had been through 
many great battles, and had already served two years 
in the army. The surgeon told her she must leave the 
prison at once, and said that he would place her under 
the care of a lady friend of his until he could take mea- 
sures to restore her to her home. Frank and I had 
become very good friends during the brief term of our 
•acquaintance, and our parting was more like that of 
two lovers than a gentleman and lady but lately 
strangers. She assured me that she would do every- 
thing in her power to release me from captivity when 
iree to act outside, and that, if possible, she would see 
me on the morrow. It may well be believed that this 
incident, happening so suddenly and attended with such 
singular circumstances, engrossed all my thoughts till 
a late hour of the night, and when towards morning I 
fell asleep, it was to dream of my new friend, her short 
but dark, clustering curls, and winning face. In the 
afternoon of the next day I was gratified by a call from 
my fair friend, then tastefully dressed in the habili- 



36 SOUTHEKN PEISONS; 

ments of her sex, and accompanied by another yonng 
lady whom she introduced to me as Miss Josie Seymour. 
They brought me a basketful of delicacies, and pro- 
mised to procure me some clothing. Miss Seymour 
was at heart a Union girl, whose father lived in South 
Carolina, about twelve miles from Florence, and was 
very wealthy, and, as Captain Walker told me, a bitter 
and prominent secessionist. I was compelled to part 
from both ladies rather formally, as Captain Walker was 
near during our interview, and returned to my quarters, 
but with the assurance from both that they would leave 
no means untried to effect my escape. With my basket 
of delicacies I returned to my prison, and for the first 
time in a month ate a hearty meal, for the first time in 
very many months enjoyed the luxuries of the table. 
After satisfying my appetite and reserving something 
for my breakfast, I divided the remainder of my present 
among my comrades, who were watching me with' 
hungry eyes, and who no doubt had suffered as deeply 
as had I. All that day and night I thought of the pos- 
sibilities of an escape, in which I believed, could it once 
be effected, that Miss Seymour and my newly-found 
lady friend would be my companions. I inferred, and 
correctly too, that Miss Seymour and her father had 
become somewhat alienated by their difference in views 
regarding political questions, and that her visit to 
Atlanta was the consequence, and that unless she left 
there for the North the separation was likely to be a 
prolonged one. Many plans of escape were evolved 
by me, but it was clear that I must have co-operation 
from outside, and that I must await the action of mj 
fair friends, for whose next visit I anxiously waited. 
The next day, November twenty-sixth, was Thanks- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIISrE OF FLORElSrCE. 37 

giving Day, and, even in out deplorable condition, 
many of us were tliankful it was no worse. Tliere was 
no public ceremony of tlianksgiving, as we had not our 
chaplain with us, and the rebels were even leas likely 
to furnish a prisoner a religious adviser than abundant 
and wholesome food There was, too, no danger of the 
latter half of the day being observed as it is in New 
England and through the North so generally in con- 
suming game, poultry, mince pies and plum puddings, 
the more especially as on that morning we were put on 
half rations, probably with a view, on the part of the 
commanding officer, to create within us a spirit of reli- 
gion by severe fasting. It was some consolation to us, 
however, to reflect that the establishment of a day of 
thanksgiving to the rebels was a grim satire on their 
situation, for what they had to be thankful for they 
only could discover. Among the more reasonable and 
thinking men it must have been passed as a day of fast- 
ing and prayer to God that he would deliver them out 
of their present strait. The day among us called to 
mind many happy thanksgivings passed at our Northern 
homes, and all drearily wondered whether those days ■ 
might ever again return, or whether, like too many of 
our brave boys, we should ere long sleep beneath 
Southern sod, and only be remembered at the North as 
one of that vast army whose resting places were among 
the unknown graves in an enemy's land. 

Captain James T. Morgan, of Company B, Seven- 
teenth Regiment, complained to the commander of the 
prison concerning our insufficient rations, but all to no 
purpose. He was as obdurate as a granite rock, and we 
fast became accustomed to the sensations of positive 
hunger. The continual gnawing at the stomach became 



38 SOUTHEKN PRiso]>rs ; 

chronic and comparatively little regarded by us, but 
was surely having its effect and undermining the consti- 
tution of every man subjected to this cruel treatment. 
Evidently, the rebels hoped to bring the Northern 
people and Government to terms by the sufferings of 
their captured sons, but too resolute men were at the 
head of affairs, and they failed as signally in this as in 
their rebellion. The effect of the treatment was, how- 
ever, soon seen in the numerous deaths among the pris- 
oners. They fell off in our own prison and in the hos- 
pitals daily, and the mortality soon became excessive. 
The same was, no doubt, trae not only of those sta- 
tioned at Atlanta, but in the prisons throughout the 
whole South. 

One afternoon I sought the main gate, hoping for 
another interview with Miss Seymour and my friend, 
and I fear my allegiance had, in the short space of one 
day, been transferred to the former. She was a beauti- 
ful girl, well educated and refined, and possessed those 
charms in a woman, a gentle heart, and a low, sweet 
voice. Is it strange that, with her Union sentiment, she 
had already made a deep impression on me ? After no 
•little delay I was notified of the arrival of the young 
ladies, and I obtained, through the influence of Captain 
Walker, permission to go outside the gate and speak with 
them in the army tent wHch stood just outside of the 
prison, and in which they were sitting, but I was accom- 
panied by a guard, who kindly informed me that he had 
orders to blow out my brains if I attempted to escape. 
I assured him I had no such intention, and he had the 
decency to stand outside the tent and at its entrance, 
while I enjoyed the interview with the ladies inside. 
Our meeting was rather that of old and dear friends 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. 39 

than of recent acquaintances, and before the interview 
closed I fancied Miss Seymour might possibly be at 
least somewhat interested in the unfortunate captive, as 
I was obliged to confess in my own heart I was deeply 
in her. The fair girl and myself had a long and inti- 
mate conversation, in the course of which I proposed 
to her that she should fly witli me if I succeeded in 
making good my escape, and I would conduct her safely 
to the Northern lines, or die in the attempt. She frankly 
confessed that she had hoped for an offer of a similar 
kind, and that if I approved of it, she would gladly 
accompany me and share the hardships and danger of 
such an undertaking without a murmur. I assured her 
I did heartily approve, and we both expressed the hope 
that ere long we might congratulate ourselves on being 
no longer among the hated rebels. While Miss Sey- 
mour and I were conversing and arranging our plans 
for an escape, Frank engaged the attention of the guard 
outside, who was only too glad to get an opportunity 
to while away a half hour with so pretty a girl, and 
omitted all attention to me, save a lookout that I did 
not get away. Our plans having been agreed upon, and 
the next day selected as the time w^hen the attempt 
should be made, we separated, Miss Seymour and I 
having only an opportunity to clasp hands, but with 
that clasp went my heart, and I hoped was returned 
some part of hers. 

To many it may seem curious that I, a prisoner and 
hated Yankee, should have been so favorably treated 
in reference to obtaining interviews with my two fair 
friends, but a little explanation will make the matter 
entirely clear. I ascertained most of the facts from Miss 
Seymour herself. 



40 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

It seems that some years before the Rebellion broke 
out Captain Walker was a resident of South Carolina, 
and on quite intimate terms with the father of Miss Sey- 
mour. His father was an ultra State rights man, and 
quite wealthy. As a consequence, when the war broke 
out, he became at once a person of marked influence, 
and was enabled to procure for his son at once a com- 
mission in the army. After serving for about thirteen 
months in a Lieutenant' s position he was promoted to a 
Captaincy, and was sent from Richmond to Atlanta to 
take command of the prison there. From the time he 
entered the army up to this period he had not seen Miss 
Seymour, to whom he had become devotedly attached 
in South Carolina, though he had addressed several let- 
ters to her, which, however, were not answered. One 
evening in Atlanta, happening to call upon a lady 
friend, he by accident met Miss Seymour there, and 
renewed the acquaintance previously formed The 
Captain asked if he might be allowed to call upon her 
at her residence, and so modest a request was readily 
granted. He paid her several visits, and when Frank 
was removed from the prison, Captain Walker sent her 
to Miss Seymour, under whose charge she was placed. 
Learning that the ofiicer was about to call, and surmis- 
ing, with that intuition which all women possess in 
such matters, that he was interested in Miss Seymour, 
Frank asked her, if possible, to procure for her an inter- 
view with a friend she had left in the prison, and whom 
she wished to see again. She asked the favor of CajDtain 
Walker, who readily granted it, though he told her that 
it was against the rules of the prison, and thus oui' inter- 
view was obtained. 

The afternoon of that day, early in December, but 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 41 

the exact date I cannot determine now, I passed in a 
state of intense excitement, though it was carefully re- 
pressed, and no indications of its presence were suffered 
to betray me. I had made all my plans for the escape, 
and knew that if once at a little distance from the walls 
of the hated prison, my chances of ultimate escape were 
good, as Miss Seymour had abundance of money, and 
once in the woods, that would carry us safely through, 
with the assistance of the negroes, who always be- 
friended the escaping loyalist. That evening, however, 
all my hopes were dashed rudely to the ground by the 
receipt of a sudden order (no cause for it being assigned) 
to " pack up," though exactly what we were to pack it 
was not easy to see, as our clothing was confined to the 
tattered habiliments we wore, and we had never had 
rations more than sufficient to appease hunger for the 
moment. It seemed, indeed, as though the rebel officer 
was perpetrating a grim joke on our forlorn condition. 
Yet all our men, who were Yankees in the more re- 
stricted sense of the term, carried away from Atlanta 
some personal property, as souvenirs of home and keep- 
sakes from dear friends, which had eluded the vigilance 
of the rebel searchers. Most of us, too, bore away with 
us some relics of the place in which we had been impris- 
oned, not, it is true, for any great length of time, but 
still long enough to implant in the heart of every man 
bitter recollections of it. Indeed, this fondness for 
relics seemed to be a passion among the Northern sol- 
diers. They extracted them from all places, even those 
seeming incapable of affording anything of the slightest 
interest, and carried them constantly and into all con ■ 
ceivable places. Attention to these matters and other 



42 SOTTTHBEN PRISONS; 

necessary preparations naturally consumed much time, 
and it was quite late before our work was completed. 

To say that I was bitterly disappointed at the order 
to move away, and the frustation of escape when it 
seemed within my grasp, and the journey to the Iforth 
would be comparatively easy, is but feebly to express 
the bitterness of sorrow which I endured that evening. 
I certainly should have made a desperate effort for my 
liberty were it not for the fact that in that event I could 
not safely communicate with Miss Seymour and cany her 
with me, as on this occasion my absence would soon be 
discovered, pursuit would be speedy, and my flight 
must have been instantaneous, and pursued with an 
energy and celerity such as no woman could possibly 
be equal to. Miss Seymour had behaved towards me 
like an angel, and every sentiment of honor forbade my 
leaving her in Atlanta and fleeing North myself, so I 
determined to remain in my present situation, and trust 
to the chances of escaping in future, when I would 
retrace my steps to Atlanta, and endeavor to secure my 
benefactress's escape to my home with me. 

The work of preparing rations for our journey was 
one which demanded our serious atten;ion, and occu- 
pied no little time and care. From our corn-meal we 
had to bake enough biscuits or cakes, for a trip which 
promised to be a long one, and these were baked on 
skillets, one skillet serving for twenty men. As soon 
as marching orders were received, it may naturally be 
supposed there was a general rush for the skillets ; it 
was every man for himself and the d — 1 take the hinder- 
most. Those who failed to be first in getting hold of 
them, frantically endeavored to secure the second place 
by inducing number one to promise to turn over the 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 43 

skillet to tlie applicant on finishing his baking oper- 
ations. All, however, in turn obtained them, and at a 
late hour succeeded in getting their rations prepared. 
A few slight differences occurred as to who had the best 
title to a particular skillet, which occasionally resulted 
in somebody' s getting knocked down. 

The night was a long and dreary one to me, reflect- 
ing upon the hard fate which was so soon to bear me 
eastward, far from newly found and dear friends, and 
I especially pictured to myself the bitter disappointment 
which I was sure Miss Seymour would experience when, 
the next morning, she paid her promised visit to the 
prison and found me gone. I bitterly cursed the fatal 
order which had produced this double disappointment 
to my friends and myself ; but I saw no path of honor- 
able or desirable escape from the difficulties by which 
I was environed, and with a sore and anxious heart I 
was forced to commit myself and the young girl who 
had already gained so strong a hold upon my affections 
to the future, and the God who directs it. 



44 SOUTHERN PRISONS 



CHAPTER lY. 

DEPARTURE FOR RICHMOND. 

The Rebel Capitol— The Belle Isle Prison— Horrible Sufferings of the 
Prisoners. 

Cursed Fate ! Malicious Stars ! you now have drained 
Yourselves of all your poisonous influence; 
Ev'n the last baleful drop is shed upon me ! 

Lee's MethricUiies. 

At the hour of live o'clock in the morning of Dec. 6th, 
we were marched to the depot and hnddled in cattle cars 
and started east, it being announced that onr destina- 
tion was Richmond, a fact not calculated materially to 
improve our prospect or lighten our hearts, the accounts 
of the cruelties practiced at that city and in its vicinity 
having already been wafted to the west and sending a 
chill through the heart of every union prisoner. After 
a comparatively rapid journey through a rather dreary 
country, lonely and inhabited almost entirely by slaves, 
the whites being generally withdrawn into the army, yet 
showing many belts of excellent land, on the morning 
of Nov. 25th we reached Richmond, almost worn out by 
the long ride, the utterly insufficient quantity of food 
and the cold, which had been excessive and from which 
in the open cars M^e were almost entirely unprotected. 
Most of the men, too, were without shoes, bare-headed 
and with hardly sufficient clothing to cover them. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 46 

The streets of Richmond we found crowded with sol- 
diers and citizens, whose faces betokened uneasiness 
concerning the struggle in which they were engaged, and 
particularly because of the disasters which had just fol- 
lowed in East Tennessee, where Grant had driven Bragg 
off Mission Ridge and back into Georgia with great loss, 
and Longstreet was retreating with the utmost precipita- 
tion towards either Georgia or Virginia. Indeed, it was 
evident that their whole efforts throughout the West had 
proved a gigantic failure, and that things were rapidly 
approaching a desperate condition there. 

As we marched under an escort up the main street, 
we were greeted by a variety of shouts and remarks 
which were generally not at all complimentary to the 
prisoners; as "How are you, Yanks?" ''What did 
you all come down here to fight we'uns for ? " " O you 
mudsills, you miserable Northern vagabonds, you Lin- 
coln hirelings, etc." A lady rebel remarked, " If these 
are Old Abe's puppies, what must he be ? O it is a pity 
that our noble sons should be killed fighting such scoun- 
drels and loafers as these." After a walk of about two 
blocks, we were halted in front of Libby Prison, a large 
three story brick building, and here the officer in charge 
of us received orders to take us at once to Belle Isle, no 
stop having to be made at Libby. We were according- 
ly removed thither and turned over to Lieutenant Bos- 
sieux, of Virginia, the com,mander of the prison. We 
again went through the process of being searched, and 
every article heretofore left us was taken away, except a 
few things which Yankee ingenuity contrived to keep 
from the prying eyes of the searchers, sometimes by a 
man not searched passing them to a fellow prisoner who 
had already been examined. Myself, I contrived to 



46 • SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

save a large amount of money which I possessed when 
captured by many ingenious expedients. Among them 
were the concealment of greenbacks in my shoes, which 
I then slit up so as to make them useless to the Rebels, 
by sewing up bills in my clothing and other contrivan- 
ces of similar character which effectually eluded the 
vigilance of the Rebel searchers. At the conclusion of 
this disagreeable robbery we were all divided into squads 
of 100 each, and each squad into five messes of 20 men. 
One man in each mess was detailed to act as purveyor 
of the mess to take charge of and distribute the rations 
when they should he receimd. I was soon notified that I 
would be in "Mess No. 4," and ordered to make my ap- 
pearance promptly at the time of drawing rations, that 
I might get them without delay. We were then marched 
into the Fort where our prisoners were confined, and were 
greeted with vociferous cries and calls of all conceivable 
kinds, many insulting, though from Union soldiers, and 
all denoting clearly that our stay at Belle Isle would be 
a scene of unmitigated misery, among them one partic- 
ularly striking me, ' ' Thirty days to live if not sooner 
killed," evidently referring to the brutal practice of the 
Rebel sentries of shooting prisoners on the slightest pre- 
text. This was, however, a sort of initiation, and cus- 
tomary on all such occasions, and the more equanimity 
displayed by the new prisoners the better for them. 

Soon, however, many of us found friends or acquain- 
tances among the captives from numerous regiments, 
and temporary shelter being attained, the night was 
mainly spent in asking questions concerning our homes 
and the army and the chances of our ultimate success. 
We also wondered with deep anxiety whether we should 
experience a severe winter or not, there being no fewer 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 47 

than 10,000 Union prisoners on the Island, with no ade- 
quate accommodations, and with hardly clothing enough 
to cover their nakedness. The Island was not fit for the 
accommodation of more than 1,800 men at a liberal es- 
timate, and the huddling of so many into so confined a 
space naturally and necessarily produced misery, dis- 
ease and death. From the account which follows it 
will Ibe seen that our suflTerings soon "became almost in- 
credible, certainly such as were never seen in the United 
States on any other occasion, save perhaps in some 
other of the horrible prison pens of the South. 

Within a couple of days we saw several rebel offi- 
cers, and the gloom caused by Bragg' s overwhelming 
defeat at Mission Ridge was plainly to be seen in their 
faces, though they strove to keep it from us and to seem 
in their usual spirits. We had, however, been able to 
gather enough from various sources to be pretty well 
informed of the great disaster which they had sufiered, 
and the exultation of even the unfortunate prisoners 
could easily be discerned, which only added to the mor- 
tification of the rebel officers. It certainly seems as 
though the disruption of the Confederacy was near, and 
the prisoners cherished hopes again that ere long they 
might be released by the victorious Union forces, even 
though they could not succeed in efiiecting their escape. 

Cold and hunger soon began to tell fearfully upon 
the men confined on Belle Isle, particularly upon those 
who were new in the army and who were comparatively 
unaccustomed to hardship. Sickness began to be fre- 
quent and fatal. It appeared almost invariably in the 
form of pneumonia, catarrh, diarrhoea or dysentery ; 
but in whatever shape it came it was caused by the 
same starvation and cold. The same causes naturally 



48 SOTTTHBRN PRISONS ; 

manifested themselves in different ways, according to 
the different constitutions of the men whom it attacked. 
The medicines furnished by the surgeons were, too, of 
little or no avail, as the sufferers, in their weakened 
condition, had no natural strength to resist disease, and 
strong medicines only served to overcome their shat- 
tered constitutions and render them still more easy 
preys to the attacks of disease. Soon they began to 
die like sheep struck with the rot, and they were car- 
ried out continually by day and by night, almost a 
ceaseless stream, and flung into shallow graves hastily 
dug, and in most cases passed out of the knowledge of 
all in this world, no pains being taken to mark their 
resting places, and in future they being known only as 
unknown Union dead. 

Soon the greater portion of the prisoners were at- 
tacked with fearful colds caused by exposure, and the 
terrible coughing of so many men grew horrible. It 
seemed as though all the prisoners were rapidly cough- 
ing their lives away, and it became almost impossible 
to sleep. The spirits of the men were almost completely 
broken down. There was no longer any sport, no ath- 
letic games, no laughter. The silence was almost uni- 
versal and most oppressive, and the only visions seen 
were men with bent forms, hollow faces, sunken eyes, 
limbs and arms like those of skeletons, livid lips, and 
heartbroken expressions in their countenances. As the 
prisoners became familiar with misery, they grew dead- 
ened in mind and ceased to notice the awful appearance 
of their comrades. It was only a horror to persons who 
occasionally visited the prison and were shocked not- 
withstanding the fact that they were generally bitter 
enemies. 




I5^^m;>*'>»'^#i 



' ii 



ill 



w 



l,'J 



liij'' 



'ilHI 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF Ft.ORENCE. 49 

The cases of Southern Unionists were harder even 
than our own. They knew that their families at home 
were at any time liable to pillage and outrage at the. 
hands of wandering ruffians and guerilla cavalry — of 
which the South was then full. Anxiety^ and perhaps, 
increased brutality on the part of our guards, who 
hated a Southern Unionist worse than any one else, 
swiftly carried these men to their graves, and having 
less capacity for resistance to disease than the Nor- 
theners, who at least were comparatively easy concern- 
ing their families and friends, they died in the propor- 
tion of four or five to one of us, and they were huddled 
into trenches and given most ignominious burial. 

Still others during this long period of misery and 
hope deferred received such news from the North as 
filled to overflowing their cup of sorrow and made it in- 
deed run over. Dear ones, who had long waited sor- 
rowfully and wearily for the return of those who never 
came, and from whom, alas ! they often never heard, 
and overburdened with the care and weariness of living, 
laid down their lives, thinking possibly to meet in 
heaven the loved ones whom they could never expect to 
see again. And yet in some cases of this character the 
soldier returned to his home just in time to hear of a 
wife but lately dead, or a family irretrievably broken 
up and scattered to the winds without any head. 

One young fellow, who had partly lost his mind from 
Bufiering, and who had not very long to live, mistook 
me for an intimate friend, and one day mysteriously 
called me to his side. He whispered: "I have not 
much longer to stay here with you, my friend, and it is 
best so for my sake. My father and mother both died 
when I was but a child, and life to me has been one 

7 



60 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

long day of sorrow and disappointment. I welcome 
my release, and know that at the great tribunal I shall 
meet them and shall be awarded that justice and mercy 
which I have never met here. Should you, however, 
live to escape to the North, go to my friends and tell 
them I died true to my country and happy. I forgive 
even the Rebels their cruel treatment of me, but as they 
deal with the prisoners here so will God deal with 
them." The feeble soldier had said these words with a 
convulsive energy that was the last effort of a dying 
man. As he ended, a shiver seemed to seize him, he 
fell heavily forward, and died almost without a strug- 
gle — leaving me horror-struck at his fate. I murmured 
a prayer that the great God would forgive his errors, if 
any he had, and receive him into his bosom, where he 
might meet again those near and dear to him. And I 
could not help thinking that he was at that moment in- 
finitely happier than I. He was carried out and buried, 
and no friend knows his resting place, as, though I at- 
tempted to meet the friends of whom he spoke, I never 
succeeded in discovering their whereabouts, they hav- 
ing removed from the place he directed me to, and no 
one in that vicinity being able to give any information as 
to what section of the country they had journeyed. No 
doubt, some of them, in the Far West, often speak of 
the boy who enlisted in the army, and who, they dream, 
perished nobly on the battle-field. Far happier would 
his fate have been had it been so. 

As the winter came in, so the severity of the weather 
increased, and cold rains, freezing as they fell, assailed 
the unprotected prisoners. But Uttle reckoned the reb- 
els of stonn. TVHiat most of our captors desu'ed was to 
reduce us to the most abject condition of misery possi- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 51 

ble in order by our horrible sufferings, tlie tale of whicli 
they would have circulated at the North, to awaken 
compassion for us, and so either stop the further pro- 
gress of the war or compel an exchange of prisoners, 
when they would secure the well-fed, hearty, strong 
Rebs in Northern prisons, and whom they could at once 
put into the army, for a lot of miserable skeletons who 
could not fight for many months, even if they should 
ever recover, which it was certain many never could do 
by any possibility. In one way the coming of the win- 
ter, ^\i.th its snow and ice, was a relief ; it gave us the 
means at hand of quenching thirst with snow or water 
comparatively pure, and of stilling the fever pain by ap- 
plying these cooling remedies to the brow and neck, but 
in all other respects it augmented our sufferings horri- 
bly. We were no longer even warm. Chronic rheuma- 
tism fastened its deadljr hold upon most of the men, 
and but few of them whom it attacked have ever been 
able to shake it off, though they were fortunate enough 
to live through this period of misery and suffering, and 
the continued cold shrank and shrivelled the men up 
tin they all looked like aged men, with no strength and 
with hardly the sense of life. 

In Harper's Weekly of Dec. 5th, 1863, is an account of 
the sufferings of the Union prisoners at Belle Isle and 
other prisons which fully substantiates our statements, 
and which we accordingly quote : 

" While the rebel prisoners in our hands are supplied 
with food in such abundance that they cannot consume 
it all, with clothmg, and even regular rations of tobac- 
co, our brave soldiers, to the number of fifteen to eigh- 
teen thousand, are shivering and starving to death on 
BeUe Island; The first intimation we had of their suf- 



52 SOUTHEEN PEISOT^S; 

ferings was on the receipt of a boat-load of sick and 
wounded at City Point on tlie 29tli of September. Of 
tlieir appearance an eye-witness spoke as follows : 

" The men landed at five a. m. in the chilly dawn, 
and it seemed a fitting time for so monrnful a proces- 
sion. They numbered 180 men, brought from Belle 
Island, near Eichmond. Many were unable to walk, 
and were carried to the hospital. Tliose that could 
walk must have presented a sight never to be forgotten ; 
for, before leaving, the rebels not only stripped them of 
socks, shoes, and blankets, but took from them their 
shirts and pantaloons, except where the rags could 
scarce hold together. Men came without hats or caps, 
with thin cotton drawers, and bodies bare to the waist, 
their nakedness and bleeding feet covered only by what 
tatters theii' cruel captors had left them, not from mer- 
cy, but because they were too filthy to keep. These 
men had been on Belle Island (which seems to be a bar- 
ren waste), without any protection against the weather, 
except what they had themselves constructed. They 
had lain on the sand, which was to them both bed and 
covering, exposed, both sick and well, to all extremes of 
heat and cold, without clothes, without food (except 
small portions of the most repulsive kinds), for weeks 
and months — many having been taken .prisoners at or 
before the battle of Gettysburg. Many were suffering 
from what are called sand sores, and the surgeons in 
vain attempted to produce general circulation of the 
blood, the cuticle in many instances seemingly dried on 
the bone from exposure.'' 

' ' De Witt C.Walters, an Indiana scout, equal to Leath- 
erstockiQg, captured just before Chicamauga, and 
paroled with three hundi-ed and fifty other Union prison- 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROnSTE OF FLOEENCE. 53 

ers, arrived at Washington last week and stated, 
among other things of absorbing interest, that the aver- 
age number of deaths among our men in Richmond 
hospitals is forty-three a day, and that most of them 
get their death-warrants on Belle Island. That sandy 
desert is low, damp, swept "with winds, and wrapped in 
fogs. Our men are without blankets, and but one-third 
of them sheltered under mould-eaten tents. All the 
starved sicken instantly, and run down with frightful 
rapidity. Four dogs, enticed to the Island during the 
twenty days Walters was confined there, were greedily 
cooked and joyfully ate. In the hospital to which he 
was transferred, the sole diet was corn bread, made up 
without salt." 



64 BOUTHEEN PRISOITS ; 



CHAPTER V. 

REBEL BAEBARITIES. 

Brutal Treatment of the Wounded Prisoners. — Modes of Torture 
Adopted. — The Wooden Horse. — Rumors of Exchange. — The 
Quantity of Rations Issued. — New Year's Day on the Island. — The 
Hospital and the Dead. — The State of the South. 

Bring forth the rack ! 
Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames ! 
He shall be bound, and gashed, and burnt alive ; 
He shall be hours, days, years, a-dying. 

Lee! a (Edipua. 

Another most harrowing circumstance which I no- 
ticed in the prison at Belle Isle was the dreadful condi- 
tion of the wounded. Many were confined there who 
had been wounded in the heavy battles which had taken 
place during the summer and fall of 1863, and as yet 
no attention whatever, save some occasional rude medi- 
cal attendance, was paid to these men by the rebels, nor 
had been since they were placed upon the Island. The 
consequence was that their wounds were in a fearful 
condition ; the flesh had sloughed oflP, frequently morti- 
fication set in, and the sufierer died within a few days. 
Indeed, it seemed as though the rebels were growing 
utterly reckless and desperate. They appeared no long- 
er to care to maintain an equal number of prisoners with 
the North, so that if any exchange should be offered 
they could obtain back their own men ; but, with the 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF ELOEENCE. 55 

malignity of fiends — no doubt resulting from desperate 
hatred to that North which they saw was slowly but 
surely crushing them into the dust — they resolved that 
every Union soldier who fell into their hands should 
sufier the pangs and agonies of hell, and if they could 
not triumph, they would at least inflict upon their con- 
querors every misery which the ingenuity of human 
devils could suggest. Indeed, as the war approached 
its termination, the condition of the prisoners gradually 
but rapidly, grew worse, and the abuses and cruelties 
inflicted upon them grew more barbarous, and at last, 
when the Union army was closing in on Eichmond, and 
Sherman sweeping up through the Carolinas to attack 
it on the south, and the alarmed rebels were hurrying 
hither and thither, neither food, medical attendance, oi 
aught else was furnished to those unfortunate prisoners 
who had not escaped, which very many had by that 
time done, and while the guards stood over them and 
watched them according to the last orders they ever re- 
ceived, quitting their posts only when they learned of 
the surrender of Lee and the utter destruction of the 
rebel armies. The prisoners meanwhile died off" in thous- 
ands, were left unburied, and the prison-pens became 
in sober fact and reality vast cemeteries — so that when 
visited by the victorious Union soldiers they presented 
such appailmg spectacles as completely unnerved the 
hardiest men, who had gone through a hundred battles 
unmoved, but upon whom the efi'ect of the sights at 
Belle Isle, Andersonville, and Florence has left its im- 
pression forever. 

About the first of December it was rumored through- 
out the prison that a flag of truce boat had been seen 
landing at City Point which was to make arrangements 



tf6 sotrTHEKN prisons; 

for a general exchange of prisoners, and as men are 
prone to believe what they hope for strongly, we thought 
it very probable that a period would shortly be pnt to 
our sufferings. 

December 17th, 1863, we had the nnnsnal good for- 
tune to obtain a copy of the Richmond Bulletin from 
one of the guards, and it appeared that Gen. Meade and 
Oen. Lee were confronting each other on the Eapidan, 
and seemed to be preparing for a decisive struggle on 
Mine Run. The rebel authorities seemed to be greatly 
alarmed, so far as we could judge from their actions, as 
reported in the columns of the newsj)aper, and it cer- 
tainly seemed as though, if Meade could beat Lee, he 
might force his passage to Lynchburg and cut the capi- 
tal off from all communication from the section which 
supplied a great part of the supplies for both Richmond 
and the army of Vu'ginia. 

December 18th I obtained from one of the guards, 
to whom I gave for it a dollar in Confederate money, 
a second paper, in which it was stated that an indecisive 
battle had been fought on Mine Run, and that Meade 
seemed to be retiring. He seemed to us never to accom- 
plish any decisive results, but to be afraid of Lee and 
never to fight him a pitched battle unless forced into it, 
as he was at Gettysburg. More rumors were afloat con- 
cerning the probability of an exchange, and exchange 
stock yet ruled high. 

On December 20th the weather was a little milder, and ' 
most of the men got out of doors for a little fresh air. 
They seemed to show more life than usual, though I 
could not help thinking it was due mainly to the hope 
that an exchange would soon result. On that day a 
Bmall quantity of government clothing was being issued 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 67 

by J. M. Sanderson, of the Union army, who was sent 
from the North with the articles, and who was admitted 
to the prison for this j)iirpose by the rebel authorities. 
Indeed, I did not think the rebels were at all nnwilling 
that every few weeks a Northern officer should see the 
prisoners, that on his return home he might report their 
fearful condition, and by creating a burst of indignation 
at the North, the people might compel the authorities to 
make a general exchange-of prisoners, and the South 
thus get thek own again. As a general rule the men 
were in a fearful state of destitution in respect of cloth- 
ing. Most had nothing on save an apology for a pair of 
pants and a shirt. As soon as the distribution com- 
menced, they rushed upon the clothing and the officer 
making the issue, and plundered such articles as they 
could lay their hands on. There was no way of restrain- 
ing them save by the employment of an armed force. 

Of myself, during all this scene of misery, I have 
said little, and it may now not be inappropriate to make 
a brief statement concerning my own health. Being 
naturally of a strong constitution, and not having suf- 
fered from wounds, I was far better able to bear up 
against the hardships of prison life than were many of 
our boys. In time, however, the effects of the suffer- 
ings on Belle Isle began to tell even upon me, and at 
this time, about the last of December, I could distinctly 
understand that I was breaking down under the con- 
tinual pressure of want, cold, and anxiety. I had 
thought much of escape, but as yet no opportunity of 
wliich I could avaU myself with any reasonable prospect 
of success had occurred. My situation at this time was 
therefore particularl}-^ gloomy, apprehending illness of a 
serious character, seeing no immediate prospect of liber- 

1 



t)8 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

ation from captivity, and at times being driven almost 
to madness by not hearing a word of Miss Seymour, 
and seeing no opportunity of ever again meeting her. 
Yet in my calmer moments my deteimination to escape, 
if liealtli and life were left me, continued in unabated 
strength, as also my resolution to regain Atlanta, even at 
the hazard of my life, and if my darling were still there, 
to endeavor to fly with her to the North. 

By the close of December our hitherto insufficient 
rations were still further reduced, and the following was 
the allowance fixed upon : 

Corn Bread — Half pound per day. 
Beans, boiled — Three gills per day. 

Corned Beef — One-eiglitli pound nominally per day — half the time 
none at all. 

Sweet Potatoes — Very rarely a small one to each. 

Provisions could be purchased of the guards or sut- 
lers on the Island at the foUowiag rates lq Confederate 
money : 

Wheat bread, four ounce loaves .$ 2 00 

Onions, per bushel 45 00 

Potatoes, per bushel ., 65 00 

Lard, per pound 10 00 

Sugar, per pound 8 00 

Butter, per pound „ 14 00 

Tea, per pound 18 00 

Coffee, per pound 22 00 

Eggs, per dozen 8 00 

Crackers, per pound 4 00 

Ham,perpound 5 00 

Pork, per pound, fresh 4 00 

Pork, per pound, salted 4 75 

Molasses, per pint 7 00 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 69 

One of tlie greatest brutalities practiced by tlie rebels, 
and one wMcli was almost as fatal to the prisoners as 
the sickness which raged in the camp, was their mode 
of punishing anything which the guards chose to con- 
sider an offence. Thus, stealing a loaf of bread for 
one's self, when drawing rations for the squad, fetching in 
without penuission a stick of wood, taking a cup of 
soup, or calling the rebel guard names, would involve 
the riding of a wooden horse, for two or three hours, 
the being tied up to a post for half a day, the carrying 
about a large stick of wood upon the shoulders for sev- 
eral hours, or some other degrading or painful punish- 
ment, just as the rebels saw lit. Sometimes they would 
tie a prisoner' s hands behind him, and stand him upon 
a flour barrel for half a day, and sometimes tie him up 
by the thumbs. The top of tliis wooden horse was 
nothing but a strip of inch pine lumber, with a thin 
edge, so as to be almost enough to cut in two any man 
simply resting upon it, whereas weights were tied to his 
feet and hands to weigh him do\\Ti upon the horse. In 
this condition he was left to suffer pain almost unimagi- 
nable. Sometimes he fainted away and fell off ; in that 
case he was set up again, and if so weak and faint that 
he fell off again, he was beaten most brutally. 

The prisoners, however, occasionally obtained the 
advantage over their persecutors. For instance, a man 
was ordered to carry a large log of wood upon his 
shoulder, marching backward and forward with the sen- 
tinel on guard. He had not, however, been tramping 
up and down more than two or three minutes when the 
sentinel was relieved and a new one substituted in his 
place. Sentinel number two, seeing the Yankee, asked 
him what he was doing with the wood on his back. He 



60 SOUTHEEN PKISOKS ; 

answered, " I am waiting for tlie sergeant to come and 
let me in," (the sentinel's beat being on the ground out- 
side the gates.) "Who let. you out ?" demanded the 
guard. " The sergeant let me out to draw wood for my 
squad." "All right, come here, and I'll let you in," 
and the prisoner went his way rejoicing ; but, reflecting 
that if his trick were discovered, the infuriated rebels 
would be as likely to shoot him as not. Serious 
thoughts, however, did not usually trouble a soldier 
long when he had played upon some one what he con- 
sidered a sharp trick. He generally lived for the present 
and thought little of the future, save when reduced to 
desperate extremities, as when suffering the horrors of 
Southern prisons, or uniting all his energies, physical 
and mental, on an escape to the North. In this partic- 
ular instance, however, the fault was attributed to the 
guard. The captain in charge that day soon went his 
rounds, and to his surprise, found no Yankee walking 
his round with the sentinel, with the log on his back. 
The trick was soon discovered, the guard abused in 
terms of excessive profanity for about ten minutes, and 
the captain did not bother himself more about the 
matter, but the guard carried a face of unusual length 
during his term, occasionally cursing aU Yankees. 

By the end of December the hope of an exchange 
had almost died out, the rumors of such action on the 
part of our government being sustained by no steps. 
The feelings of the men were those of bitter disappoint- 
ment, and it seemed that our lives at Belle Isle were 
but a constant succession of hopes deferred. At the 
time last mentioned, there was intense excitement 
throughout Richmond, caused by a report that Oen. 
Lee had been defeated, and was falling back on the for- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIfE OF FLOEENCE. 61 

tifications around the city. Several regiments were 
pushed out in the direction in which he was thought to 
be coming, and it seemed that there must be some foun- 
dation for the report. 

To call the foul pens, in which the sick on the Island 
were coniined, "hospitals" was surely a perversion of 
the English tongue. We could obtain neither brooms 
to clean them out with, nor water to keep them and 
the patients clean with. It was not even possible to 
procure enough straw to make their pallets comforta- 
ble. Most of the time they lay huddled together upon 
the cold, damp floors, half naked, and without even 
that cleanliness and warmth afforded to brutes. It 
was a weary sight to see these sufferers, expecting 
death day by day, exposed to almost intolerable mis- 
eries, yet hardly ever complaining. The only sight more 
sad was that of the dead, piled upon each otlier in the 
dead-carts, their arms swaying about, the white faces 
starmg stark and straight at one, the jaws dropped 
and open, stony eyes, while they were jolted along, 
without even the show of any respect, to the trench 
into which they were hurled. 

The credulity of our government concerning the 
relief of the suffering prisoners often passed belief. 
Tons of boxes for them were continually being sent 
by fiiends in the North, which the rebel authorities 
received, and instead of forwarding them to theii* 
proper destinations, appropriated them among them- 
selves, and left the prisoners to starve ; or, while they 
reported to the United States authorities that they had 
distributed them as called for, and that the prisoners 
were urgently in need of more, the returning ti-uce 
boat would be loaded down with boxes from friends 



62 SOTTTHEKlSr PKISONS ; 

of Southern prisoners, which were expressed through- 
out the North with most scrupulous fidelity on the 
part of the authorities of ihe North. 

A peculiar feature of our prison life, after we had 
been confined for some time, was the silence which 
reigned through the Island. The men had lost heart, 
and no longer talked among themselves. The senti- 
nels, of course, maintained a profound silence, and 
the Island thus became almost as still as the tomb, 
of which it was so fearfully typical. One might have 
lingered about it for days and never dreamed that 
thousands of men upon it were brooding over their 
sufferings and wrongs. Most had become reckless 
whether they lived or died, though, I doubt not, in 
the breast of many, hopes unconsciously lurked. Had 
we known that eleven months more of this terrible cap- 
tivity remained for most of us, I am certain all would 
have given way, and but few have come forth from the 
rebel dungeons alive. As it was, many would have 
received with positive joy and gratitude the order to 
walk out of the prison and be shot. 

In this desperate condition of affairs, the rebels 
tempted us with offers to enlist. To all who would join 
their ranks they promised abundant food, good care, and 
light duty, and the thought naturally occurred to every 
man that he might at an early day desert and join the 
Union armies again. About 2,000 did so enlist, and 
were put into the ranks. But were treated with no tol- 
eration by their comrades in the prison, and when one 
returned who had entered the rebel service he was liable 
to be beaten and badly injured. 

December 31st, closed up the old year, and aU felt 
solemn as they thought of what the year had brought 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 63 

forth, and as they reflected on what might be develoj^ed 
by the year to come. Thoughts of festivities on previous 
Christmas and New Year's days, did not, by any 
means, tend to make our hearts light or our counte- 
nances happy. A feeble attempt at gayety was made, 
and a New Year's dance improvised. For a time the 
prisoners seemed to forget then- captivity and their mis- 
eries. The dance was kept up till the old year was dead 
and the new year had commenced to reign. This jollifi- 
cation was allowed by the rebels, either because they 
chanced for once to be in good humor, or, perhaps more 
likely, had amusements of their own to attend to, and 
had no leisure to look particularly after us. On New 
Year' s day an attempt was made by the rebel authori- 
ties to give us a New Year's dinner. No greater amount 
or variety of rations than usual were served out, but 
they were better cooked, and the whole afiair presented 
a much more decent appearance than on ordinary days. 

On January 8th, there was again much excitement on 
the Island, concerning a rumored exchange of prisoners. 
It was reported that Maj. Mulferd, our Commissioner of 
Exchange, was at City Point, making the necessary 
arrangements, by which all prisoners confined in national 
prisons were to be exchanged for Southern captives, pro- 
vided the rebels could show an equal number ; if not, 
then an equal number on each side. It was further 
rumored that 40 of our officers and 800 of our men had 
already been declared exchanged. The news created 
fond hopes and great anxiety, but I feared lest it might 
prove untrue. 

From our journeys through the South, from reading 
various Southern journals, and from conversation with 
men from many different States, as sentiaels, and in 



64 SOUTHEEIT PEISONS ; 

other positions, we had at this time gathered mnch infor- 
mation concerning the actual condition of the Sonth — a 
matter which was little understood even by men high in 
position at the North. I may, too, say without vanity, 
that, from the fact of my having received a better educa- 
tion than most of my companions, I took more pains to 
understand this subject, and probably comprehended 
them more thoroughly. There were, at this tune, four 
great classes of men in the South : the officers and sol- 
diers of the armies ; the inhabitants of the cities, who 
transacted almost the entire business of the section ; the 
planters, who had not entered the army, and the negroes. 
Of these, the first was well enough known to the North ; 
the second were openly bitter secessionists and our 
deadly enemies, but they had suffered terribly in respect 
of pecuniary matters, their business bfeing greatly im- 
paired by the blockade, the deterioration of the currency 
and the poverty of the people, which was rapidly increas- 
ing. A few among them, who had capital sufficient to 
take advantage of events, as they developed opportuni- 
ties of commercial speculation, accumulated large for- 
tunes, and some retained these in safety during the 
whole struggle. But the majority of small tradesmen 
suffered greatly, and though rampant rebels outwardly, 
yet they were at heart sick of the war, and earnestly 
desu^ed its close, if not by the establishment of the inde- 
pendence of the South, then by making some arrange- 
ment with the North which should re-unite the two 
sections, if possible, save slavery, and go on as before. 
Before the war actually did close, this class was so 
utterly disgusted by then- losses and the disasters which 
befell the South, that they really hoped for a speedy 
victory of the Unionists and the overthrow of that Gov- 



OK. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF ELOREIfCE. 65' 

eminent which had failed to protect them, and which 
had involved the whole South in disaster and ruin. 

From the plantations almost all the young, able- 
bodied white men had been drawn off into the army. 
But upon most the proprietor remained, overlooking his 
negroes and raising bacon and corn, a great part of 
which was bought up for the army. These planters, in 
that great district of the South which had not been rav- 
aged as yet, embracing a tract bounded on the north by 
the lines of Southern Tennessee and Middle Virginia, on 
the east by the Atlantic, on the south by the Gulf, and 
on the west by the Mississippi,- were in a comparatively 
flourishing condition, receiving larger amounts of Con- 
federate money for their crops, their plantations being 
comparatively removed from the shock of contending 
armies, theii' negroes not being exposed to Yankee enlist- 
ing officers, and their normal occupations consisting of 
a little watchfulness over the plantation in the morning, 
and then an adjournment to the nearest viUage or four 
corners, where they met their brother planters, read the 
latest papers which had arrived, compared views on the 
situation, and drank an illimitable amount of corn- 
whisky. Occasionally the ordinarily happy planters 
met with a rude shock, in the shape of a visit from a 
rebel officer, who urgently needed provisions, had not 
the funds to pay for them, and therefore took them, 
leaving with the disgusted planter an order on the War 
Department, which the \'ictim was obliged to collect 
generally with much trouble and delay. Still, taken 
altogether, this class was the most prosperous in the 
country, except these few high officers and speculators 
who accumulated fortunes at the expense of the South- 
ern people. 



66 SOUTHEKN PRisoisrs ; 

The negroes had not yet been approached much by 
Union officers, except along the seaboard, along the 
Mississippi and on the northern line where the fight- 
ing was going on. There they had already been drawn 
off and enlisted in large numbers. It was, however, 
well known throughout the entire South, among the 
negroes, that a war of tremendous proportions was 
being waged, which involved the liberty of the colored 
race, and all were ready to desert the plantations upon 
the approach of a Union army. 

It will thus be seen that the Confederacy was a mere 
shell, utterly hollow, and protected only by the armies 
on the northern frontier. It was not, however, until the 
march of Sherman to the sea, that its utter helplessness 
was exposed. As Sherman swept unresisted south from 
Atlanta, the bubble bursted, and the world saw that the 
days of the Southern Confederacy were indeed num- 
bered. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE. 

Delicious Dog Soup. — Horrible State of the Prison. — Abortive Attempt 
to Escape. — Hoffman and myself are both Wounded. — We are sent 
to Castle Thunder. 

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flow'r 

Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume. 

And we are weeds without it, 

Cowper'a Task. 

On January 20tli, there having been no excitement or 
report in camp for the previous two weeks, and rations 
being exceedingly small and unsatisfactory, I deter- 
mined to serve both purposes by capturing the com- 
manding officer's dog. It was quite young and fat, and 
could at any time of the day be seen running about out- 
side of the works. We quietly waited our chance until 
the guard happened to turn away, when, quietly hold- 
ing up a large bone with which to attract his attention, 
we wiled him over the works and into the tent which I 
shared. We all knew that if we were discovered in our 
occupation the angry officer would stop at no means of 
retaliation or panishment, and even in his rage might 
go so far as to shoot some of us down, but men exposed 
to the risks of war get fearfully accustomed to taking 
chances, and so we hazarded perhaps our lives here, 
for a bit of fun. But we were careful to make short 
work of the dog, digging a large hole in the earth floor 



C» SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

of the tent, holding him in such a way that he could 
not make the slightest noise, and quietly cut his throat, 
letting the blood drop into the earth. "We then dressed 
him, deposited in the hole the hide, head and whatever 
else was not eatable, and cooked the edible parts by 
boiling them in a kettle. We enjoyed a delicious dog 
soup, and ate the flesh, finding it exceedingly palatable, 
and the flavor rather racy, and not unlike some kinds 
of coarser game. 

The whole camp was searched for the absent canine, 
and a reward offered for the murderers of the dog, if 
they should be discovered. But we were all silent, and 
true to each other, so that the infuriated officer took 
nothing by his motion, while we reflected grimly that 
we had eaten him, and that some of us each night slept 
over his bones, most of which we had also buried in the 
hole, though many of us finally carried with us sonie 
small bones as relics of him and of our daring exploit. 

In the camp, mice were also considered by many a 
great luxury, and often a night was spent in trying to 
capture the little fellows, and the reward of the captor 
was a dish of mice soup for dinner. Another savory 
dish was formed by picking up the old beef bones that 
could be found in the camp, even if half decayed, and 
sometimes covered with vermin, breaking them up small 
and out of these making soup. Many readers will 
revolt at these facts, but there were no other resources 
for men who were continually preyed upon by hunger, 
and did not enjoy a hearty meal once in a month. One 
of the saddest features which was developed by this 
prison life was the selfishness and greediness which were 
instilled into the prisoners by the sufferings undergone. 
Every man soon began to look after his own interest only. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOITTE OF FLORENCE. 69 

and to be utterly regardless of the wants of otliers, and, 
alas, to often too the common humanities and amenities 
of life. Still there were some honorable exceptions, 
and prisoners, when sick, generally found some brother 
to alleviate their sufferings, and lend them a kind, help- 
ing hand. As an extreme illustration of the misery to 
which many were reduced through hanger, I may men- 
tion a single incident. A prisoner was ill, so ill that 
when he ate a few cow beans — a kind that are usually 
fed to cattle — he vomited them up almost immediately. 
A brother prisoner, nearly starved, deliberately picked 
out the beans, one by one, and greedily swallowed 
them. 

February 7th, for some reason, entirely unknown to 
us, we were deprived of even our usual rations, and a 
tumult consequently took place among the famished, 
excited and enraged prisoners. I determined to make 
an effort to escape, and with Edward Hoffman, a mem- 
ber of my mess, arranged the matter with the guard for 
a valuable consideration, both of us having kept con- 
cealed about us some Confederate money for use in 
emergencies. 

No class of men were more susceptible to pecuniary 
inducements, and, indeed, to direct bribes, than were 
the rebels, and Junius Henry Browne has happily hit 
off their character in this respect in the following lan- 
guage: 

"No class of people I have ever met are so suscepti- 
ble to a bribe as the rebels. From the pompous, swag- 
gering, pseudo gentleman down to the lackey^ they 
would all, like old Trapbois, in the ' Fortunes of Nigel.' 
do almost anything for a consideration. They outdid 
the stage Yankees in their fondness for bartering and 



70 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

exchanging, and talked of swapping and trading you 
out of whatever you had or wore, in a manner I had 
not known — often as I have been in New England— to 
exist, save in histrionic Solomon Swops and Solon 
Shingles. 

They even play the mendicant almost as well as pro- 
fessional lazzaroni. You cannot have anything gay or 
striking on your person, any bright color or shining 
metal, but some fellow, who professes to be a gentle- 
man, will ask you, directly or indirectly, to give it to 
him. 

Poor devils ! they have no surplus of attire or adorn- 
ment ; but one would imagine, with all their pretension, 
they might, during the present century, have learned at 
least the first lesson in good-breeding. They are shams 
in manners, as they are in chivalry, hospitality, culture 
and everything else. They are brave, of course, because 
they are Americans ; but they must even pretend a 
recklessness of life and a passion for death that is not 
natural to humanity, and assuredly not to them more 
than to any other part of the great family. With all 
their braggadocio and bombast about perishing in the 
last ditch, and dying to the last man, woman and child, 
they know when they are whipped, as thoroughly and 
quickly as any other people, and have no more natural 
appetite for coffins and graveyards than the rest of man- 
kind. Of course, the leaders fought while they could 
keep a formidable army in the field ; and when they 
could not, they quietly submitted or run away." 

Our arrangement was that we should pass his beat 
and go down to 'the water side. It may be well to 
explain that there was but one bridge communication 
between the Island and Richmond, and a very small 



OK, JOSIEj THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 71 

one at that, and closely guarded, the principal crossing 
being kept up by ferry boats. Bridges communicated 
with the other shore, but, as we proposed to strike for 
East Tennessee, we found it necessary to cross to the 
Richmond side, though we proposed to make a detour 
round the city, and then travel nights towards the west, 
and lie in concealment during the days. The passage 
of the river, we trusted, could easily be effected as soon 
as we reached the water's edge, as numbers of small 
boats were always lying there, and the night promised 
not to be very light. Precisely at eleven o'clock, the 
hour agreed upon, we presented ourselves to the senti- 
nel, and handing him one hundred dollars in Confeder- 
ate money, we quietly moved toward the water' s edge. 
There we soon found a boat snugly drawn up on the 
bank and under it a pair of oars, and put off at once. 
Everything went well until we had reached the middle 
of the stream. There I perceived a boat coming in an 
opposite direction and some little distance away, I 
stopped pulling at once and let the boat drift, hoping 
that the other would pass us without notice. But it was 
not fated to be so. A harsh voice, which 1 at once 
recognized as belonging to the commander of the Island, 
hailed us and demanded who we were and where we were 
going. Seeing that escape by speed was now our only 
chance, I pulled swiftly down the stream, but towards 
the shore which we were anxious to make. The com- 
mander ordered us to row back, but, seeing that we were 
drawing away at every pull of the oars, he fired at us. 
As ill luck would have it, the bullet struck me in the 
calf of the leg, and went straight and clear through, 
striking my friend, too, and hurting him considerably, 
though not inflicting a serious wound. By this time, 



72 SOTTTHERN PRISONS; 

however, we had nearly reached the shore, and a few 
vigorous strokes carried ns safely to land, though the 
of&cer fired another unavailing shot at us. We mounted 
the bank and ran for it as fast as we could, and as men 
only can when liberty is at stake, but made slow pro- 
gress, as my wounded leg impeded me, and my com- 
panion was sufiiciently hurt to delay him materially. 
Soon we could hear the alarm given at the Island and 
see lights in motion, from which we knew that pursuit 
had commenced. We pushed forward, but in no long 
time were alarmed at seeing lights in front of us ; we 
changed our course, but the guards soon began fast to 
overtake us. I think I might have got away myself ,as 
I was now running well — the excitement and dangar 
making me regardless of pain — but one of the guards 
fired a musket at us, and my companion fell, badly 
wounded. I was unwilling to leave him in this plight, 
he having been an intimate friend during all the prison 
life, and so I halted and gave myself up to the squad, 
which had by this time gathered about my fallen friend. 
Being placed between two files of soldiers we were 
marched straight into Eichmond, my friend being half 
carried the whole distance, and were turned over to the 
mercies of Capt. George W. Alexander, the commander 
of Castle Thunder, our wounds being dressed, and after 
being carefully searched for knives, fire arms, etc., in 
fact for everything that could be of any value or use to 
us. We were then cast into a cell, lined entii-ely with 
iron, and night and day, for over three weeks, we lay in 
this dungeon, into which the light of day never even 
penetrated. Each day the sentinel thrust through an 
opening in the grating a piece of coarse bread, often 
made of decaying flour, and a mug of water, on which 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 73 

unsubstantial ration we were forced to sustain life for 
the next twenty-four hours. For the necessities of 
decency, an old bucket was piit in the cell, and some- 
times not removed for three or four days. No water 
was served us to wash in, and as it was continually dark 
it was impossible to rid ourselves of the vermin and lice 
which soon covered our bodies and swarmed over the 
cell. Before our release the vermin actually ate holes 
in our bodies large enough to insert a man' s finger. 
The cell was excessively cold, and our suffering from 
that cause was intense. Hope, indeed, almost departed 
from us during our imprisonment in this almost actual 
tomb, until, one morning, as the sentinel came to the 
door he, to our intense amazement, unlockeked it, and 
ordered us out. It was a joyous order for us, though it 
sent us back to Belle Isle. We came forth pale, wan, 
looking like spectres. The light blinded us, and it seemed 
as though we had undergone a long imprisonment. In 
those few days we gained a vivid conception of what 
must be the fate of any so unfortunate as to be incar- 
cerated in these gloomy cells for any lengthy period. 
Such must indeed soon become dead to the world, and 
grow forgetful of the past, as well as hopelees for the 
future. 

There we were compelled again to witness the suffer- 
ings of our fellow-prisoners. Horrible as they were 
when we made our escape, they had grown far worse 
durmg our absence, and many of our best friends, weary 
of nfe, had refused to take food, and were now num- 
bered among the dead. The prisoners remaining in con- 
finement looked paler and thinner, and not long for this 
world. After our return the greatest barbarities were 

practiced, the rations being of almost no value, no meat 
10 



74 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

being issued, and the bread being reduced to one-sixtli 
of a loaf per day. Men were being constantly carried to 
tlie hospital, and the number of deaths was three times 
as great as the number when we were there before. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 75 



CHAPTER VII. 

CORROBORATING TESTIMONY 

Authoritative Evidence gathered from Richmond Prisoners — A collec- 
tion of Horrors. 

Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills; 
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way 
To all the pangs and fury of despair. 

AddisorCs Cato. 

Evidence conclusively sustaining my own in regard to 
the terrible sufferings of the Union prisoners at Belle 
Island is abundant, but being collected by persons who 
were not themselves present and witnesses of the rebel 
barbarities, it does not adequately portray the atrocities 
which were there witnessed by myself. Among the mass 
of testimony existing upon the question, however, is that 
gathered at Annapolis by Miss D. L. Dix, who is recog- 
nized as an authority upon the theme, and of this we 
present the exceedingly graphic and forcible report : 

Miss D. L. Dix, sworn and examined : "Last winter I 
was at Annapolis, and examined many hundred returned 
prisoners. I inquii-ed of these men exactly the manner 
in which they were fed and treated on Belle Island — 
examined them individually, and by sixes and sevens. 
I saw no disposition on the part of these men to exag- 
gerate their sufferings. Inquiring from what causes they 
had suffered most severely, whether rapid marches, 
exposure to inclement weather, lack of apparel, or hun- 
ger, the answer was invariably, ' From hunger, while at 



76 SOUTHERN PEISOU^S ; 

Belle Island.' I inquired the amount of animal food 
allowed a day, when tliey had any at all ; they replied 
that an iron-bound bucket, filled with packed meat, was 
the allowance for one hundred men ; the weight of 
bucket and meat would be twenty-flve pounds. When 
cooked this afforded a very small quantity for each man. 
As Winter and Spring advanced, the only food supplied 
was corn meal mixed with water and roughly bak^d. 
This bucket of meat I speak of was allowed them about 
twice a week, with very little rice in the Autumn. I 
understand that in the hospitals they occasionally had a 
little boiled rice, to which was sometimes added a very 
small quantity of brown sugar or molasses. I gather 
from Confederate authority as well as from our returned 
prisoners — and a Confederate official, whose evidence 
cannot be questioned in that matter, declared, that the 
sole sustenance at Belle Island was corn meal and water 
— that of the numbers remaining at Belle Island, then 
about eight thousand, about twenty-five died daily ; that 
the mortality in Georgia was still greater, and that it 
would be but a few weeks before the deaths would 
count fifty a day. Another fact which he affinued as a 
reason for withholding so much from our prisoners, sent 
by their friends and the Government, was the cruel and 
severe restrictions imposed on their men in our hands. 
I had visited those very prisons to whom he referred at 
Point Lookout ; they were supplied with vegetables, 
with the best wheat bread, and fresh or salt meat three 
times daily, in abundant measure — the full Government 
ration. In the camp of about nine thousand rebel pris- 
oners, there were but four hundred reported to the sur- 
geon ; of these, one hundred were confined to their beds, 
thirty were very sick, and perhaps fifteen or twenty 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 77 

wonld never recover. The hospital food consisted of 
beef tea, beef soup, rice, milk, milk punch, milk gruel, 
lemonade, stewed fruits, beefsteak, vegetables and mut- 
ton ; white sugar was employed in cooking. The. sup- 
plies were, in fact, more ample and abundant than in 
many hospitals where our own men were under treat- 
ment. 

To return to the condition of the Federal prisoners on 
Belle Island, there was at no time adequate shelter for 
the entire number till late in the Spring, when the num- 
ber had been greatly reduced by transfer to Georgia, 
exchanges and death. I was told that in the morning it 
was not at all uncommon to lind men dead from expo- 
sui'e and rain. 

I have repeatedly seen the exchanged prisoners 
reduced to the lowest extremity through want of food. 
Of more than four hundred landed in Baltimore some 
little time since, nearly, if not the entire number, were 
suffering from the effects of hunger ; more than one hun- 
dred of these were taken a few yards across 'the wharf to 
the hospital on stretchers ; seven died before they could 
could be taken into the the building, and seven more 
that same night. Their clothing was filthy to the last 
degree ; they were covered with vermin ; they were the 
merest bundles of bones and skin, and some bones pierc- 
ing the flesh. The cries of these poor men for food, were 
pitiful in the extreme. In addition to their other suffer- 
ings, many had lost part of their feet by frost. The 
minds showed the weakness of the body — som.e were 
reduced to idiocy. They would entreat for an apple or 
a bit of meat to look at, if they could not be allowed 
solid food. Many of these poor creatures died, and 
others, I understand from surgeons, are enfeebled fo ! 



78 SOUTHERN PRISOKS; 

life. Many of these prisoners when brought on the flag- 
of-truce boat, were observed to clasp theii' hands and fix 
their gaze upon the American flag, ' It is enough, thank 
God we are at home.' A remarkable trial of disinter- 
estedness : Rev. M. Hall said, ' What can I do for you, 
my boys V ' Hasten exchanges, and bring away our 
comrades.' 

A gentleman of Washington, who had been pei-mitted 
to convey a body for burial to the South on board the 
flag-of-truce boat, remarked that all the rebel prisoners 
were in vigorous health, equipped in clothes furnished 
by the United States Government ; many of them with 
blankets and haversacks, while we received in return not 
one able-bodied man at that time. I have witnessed this 
fact myself on other occasions on the flag-of-truce boats. 
The rations served to the prisoners on Belle Island, 
whether drawn from supplies furnished by the Federal 
Government or not, or through the individual liberality 
of Northern citizens, were never dis]3ensed in sufficient 
quantities by the Confederate authorities to satisfy hun- 
ger. I have seen tons of provisions shipped on the flag- 
of-truce boat from the North for the relief of our pris- 
oners at Richmond. Little or nothing came from the 
South for the rebel prisoners at the North. Clothing 
and blankets were sent by our Government to the pris- 
oners in quantities, but not fully distributed. One 
reason why our men were so wholly destitute of clothing 
at a late season, was the temptation that they were 
under to give them away for a biscuit, or a small quan- 
tity of food, to save them from starvation. 

D. L. DIX." 

I certify that the foregoing testimony was taken and 
reduced to writing in presence of the respective wit- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 79 

nesses, and by them sworn or affirmed to in my presenc 
at the time, place, and in the manner set forth. 

D. P. BROWN, Jr., 

United States Commissioner. 

And in concluding my account of what we under- 
went at Belle Island, I subjoin the following stanzas by 
Herman Mellville, which so beautifully portray the feel- 
ings of the soldier : 

IN THE PRISON PEN. 

Listless he eyes the palisades, 
And sentries in the glare, 
'Tis barren as a plican beach — 
But his world is ended there. 

Nothing to do ; and vacant hands 
Bring on the idiot pain ; 
He tries to think — to recollect — 
But the blur is on his brain. 

Around him swarm the plaining ghosts 
Like those on Virgil's shore — 
A wilderness of faces d.\rr.. 
And pale ones gashed and hoar. 

A smiting sun. No shed, no tree; 

He totters to his lair — 

A den that sick hands dug in earth 

Ere famine wasted there. 

Or, dropping in his place, he swoons, 

Walled m by throngs that press, 

Till forth from the throngs they bear him dead — 

Dead in his meagreness. 



80 SOtJTHEEN PEISONS 



CHAPTER YIIL 

AN EPITOME OF ADVENTUKE. 
The Notorious Gen. Winder. — Our Removal to Andersonville. — Tes 
timony of Surgeon A. Chapel. — Hoffman and myself Escape from 
the Train. — We are Captured by Indians and Regain our Liberty, 
*Tis vain — my tongue cannot impart 
My almost drunkenness of heart. 
When first this liberated eye 
Surveyed earth, ocean, sun and sky. 
As if my spirit pierced them through. 
And all their inmost wonders knew ! 
' ;. One word alone can point to the 

That more than feeling — I was free ! 
E'en for thy presence ceased to pine : 
The world — nay — heaven itself was mine! 

ByrorCs Bride of Ahydon. 

One of tlie men wlio were famous at Riclimond for 
their tyranny and barbaritj', was the notorious Gen. 
Winder. Him I saw once or twice, and I cannot do 
better than to quote the description of him by Mr. Pol 
lard himself, the Southern historian. ' ' Davis' right-hand 
man in Richmond was Gen. Winder, of Maryland — ' a 
name that thousands of living persons yet recall with 
horror.' This 'head jailor of the Confederacy' was 
near 60 years of age ; his hair was white and tufty, 
and at a distance he had a patriarchal appearance. 
But his face was a picture of cruelty — a study for an 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 81 

artist ; a harsh, dry face, cruel eyes, not muddy, as 
from temper, but with a clear, cold light in them ; a 
faded, poisonous mouth, on which a smile seemed mock- 
ery. He was corrupt, avaricious, treacherous, yet had 
absolute power over Richmond for years." 

It being at last apparent, even to the rebels them- 
selves, that to longer retain us upon the Island would 
prove the certain death of at least two-thirds of the pris- 
oners who yet remained and not wishing to lessen th.^ 
number of the captives held by them so greatly as to 
render abortive all their attempts at an interchange, it 
was determined to transfer us to Andersonville, the 
stockade of which was at this time partially completed. 
On the morning of an April day, the first four hundred 
men were ordered to Richmond for transportation, 
myself being one of the number, a circumstance for 
which I was profoundly thankful, as I was certain that 
no field prison could be worse than was Belle Island. 
My friend Hoffman, who by this time was somewhat 
recovered from his wound, was also among the number^ 
another source of gratification to me. We had several 
conferences before starting South, and fully made up 
our minds to escape if possible on our journey thither, 
for which we were certain, from what we had already 
seen of the transportation of prisoners, opportunities 
would be offered. 

By nine o'clock in the morning we had left Rich- 
mond, traveling in the same eternal cattle cars, and 
the train was soon under way. It was densely crowded, 
but the men, though suffering intensely from cold and 
hunger, were in very good spirits, all hoping that the 
new prison might be an improvement on the old one. 

As we left Richmond on our dreary journey towards 
11 



82 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Andersonville, we crossed the James River upon one of 
the long bridges, and, as we neared the centre of the 
stream, Belle Island came in fall view, with its prison, 
earthworks, and its captive inmates moving about, indis- 
tinct specks from our point of view. To me the sight 
of this abode of wretchedness, where I had sj^ent the 
four saddest months of my life, where first I had expe- 
rienced the full and real horrors of war and its attendant 
captivity, was a source of serious and gloomy reflection. 
Of the horrors of Belle Island and Castle Thunder I was 
deeply conscious ; that they exceeded the barbarities 
ever practiced upo5i prisoners of war by any civilized 
community, I had firmly believed ; but now, that we 
were being removed to an unknown country, consigned 
to unknown dangers and sufferings, my heart could not 
avoid the question: Are there yet in store for myself and 
my patriot comrades, torments even yet more fearful 
than those which we have already undergone ? And as 
I reflected upon the probable continuance of the war, of 
the intensified hatred and malignity which w^ould ani- 
mate the souls of the Rebels, as their hopes of success 
grew fainter, and their peril greater, I could not resist 
the conclusion that a harder fate than even that hitherto 
undergone, lay in wait for the Union prisoners. Yet 
my courage never quailed. I glided by Belle Island, 
and it became a thing of the past, while I nerved my 
soul to meet the unknown future as a solclier and pa- 
triot. 

In order to substantiate more thoroughly the state- 
ments already made in relation to our suffering and pri- 
vations upon Belle Isle, and in order that the most 
skeptical may be fuUy satisfied as to their truth, we 
subjoin the following testimony of Surgeon A. Chapel, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 83 

given at Baltimore, June 2, 1864, and in presence of 
three of the Commissioners of Inquiry, appointed by 
the United States Sanitary Commission. 

"commissioners present: 
Dr. Mott, De. Delafield, Judge Hare. 

Surgeon A. Chapel, affirmed and examined : 

I am Surgeon in charge of West' s Buildings Hospi- 
tal, Baltimore. On the 18th of April, 1864, I received 
at the hospital one hundred and five of the paroled pri- 
soners from Richmond, brought to this point on the flag- 
of- truce boat, "New York." These were the worst 
cases received at this point by that boat ; none of them 
being able to stand alone. All were brought into the 
hospital upon stretchers. 

Nearly all were in an extreme state of emaciation, 
filthy in the extreme, and covered with vermin. Some 
of them so eaten by the vermin as to very nearly resemble 
a case of scabbing from small-pox, being covered with 
sores from head to foot, so as scarcely to be able to touch 
a well portion of the skin with the point of the finger. 

Their appearance was such in the way of filth and 
dirt, as to convince any one that they had not had an 
opportunity for ablution for weeks and months. Several 
were in a state of semi-insanity, and all seemed, and 
acted, and talked, like children, in their desires for food, 
&c. Very few of them had blankets or clothing, some 
in a state of semi-nudity. 

Upon being questioned upon the causes of their con- 
dition, the testimony was universal : — starvation, expo- 
sure and neglect, while prisoners at Eichmond and Belle 
Isle. 



84 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

Tlieir universal declaration was, in reference to their 
living, tliat tliey were provided with only one small por- 
tion of corn-bread per day, which was made simply from 
corn-meal and water, without salt, not larger than a 
man' s hand ; it was about an inch and a quarter thick. 
This was the portion for the day. They sometimes got 
small portions of meat once a day, two days in a week. 
Several of them told me that they had been able to get 
occasionally a small piece of the flesh of a dog, which 
they had cooked and eaten with great relish, and that 
they had caught rats and eaten them in the same way. 
Many of them believed that the meat issued to them was 
cut from the bodies of mules. 

They said, while on Belle Isle they had no means of 
shelter, but were obliged to huddle together in heaps, to 
protect themselves from the inclement weather ; — often 
one or two blankets in thickness covering five or six 
persons ; — often lying one upon another in tiers, and 
changing places as they became tired out. They state 
that they had little or no shelter while prisoners at Belle 
Isle. 

We were obliged to treat them as children, in regu- 
lating their diet in the hospital, having to restrain their 
over-eating, and confine them to a concentrated but 
nourishing and generous diet. 

Several cases had no disease whatever, but suffered 
from eextreme maciation and starvation. The limb of 
one of these men could be spanned with the thumb and 
finger, just above the knee. This patient, a boy of nine- 
teen years old, would not weigh over fifty pounds then, 
though in health probably one hundred and thirty-five 
pounds. This was not a solitary instance, many others 
being extremely emaciated. Many presenting the ap- 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEEOHSTE OF FLOEEIfCE. 85 

pearance of mere living skeletons, with the skin drawn 
tightly over the bones. 

Many of them were laboring under such diseases as 
dropsy, pulmonary consumption, scurvy, mortification 
from cold, several having lost one-half of both feet from 
this cause. 

Several were afflicted with very severe bed-sores, 
caused by lying in the sand without shelter. One man, 
unable to lie in any other way but on his face, and lived 
about four weeks in this way. 

Up to the present time, of the number received, (one 
hundred and five,) forty-two have died. All gave evi- 
dence of extensive visceral disease, of which starvation, 
cold and neglect were undoubtedly the primary cause. 
Some of the cases sank from extreme debility, without 
any evidence of disease as the cause of death. 

A. CHAPEL, 

Surgeon U. S. A 
Affirmed to and subscribed before me, 

June 2d, 1864. 

D. P. BROWN, Jr., 

United States Commissioner." 

As soon as darkness began to come on in the evening, 
I commenced to take measures for carrying out my 
plan of escape. I had procured a large, sharp bladed 
jack-knife, just before leaving Belle Island, buying it 
from a comrade, and, as there had been no motive for 
searching us since, I still retained it. With this I suc- 
ceeded, after a deal of labor, in cutting a hole through 
the back of our car, "the rear one," being aided in 
my work by the fact that the timber was old and most 
of it rotten. By about two or three o'clock in the morn- 
ing the undertaking was successfully completed, and 



86 SOUTHEEN PRISONS; 

when within about twenty miles of Raleigh, N. C, as 
I afterwards learned, first one and then the other crept 
carefully through, and turning round, so as to face in 
the same direction that the cars were running in, then 
letting himself down slowly, each let go, and in this 
way, the cars running but about ten miles an hour, both 
got safely off, though a little scratched and bruised as 
we came down. We lay flat on our faces as we fell, for 
some time, that no one might notice us, though it was so 
dark that this precaution was rather unnecessary. 
Our comrades might many of them have escaped in the 
same way, had they possessed the nerve, but they seem- 
ed not to wish to run the risk, so that we were left alone, 
a result far more favorable to our permanent escape 
than if many had jumped ofi" and we had attempted 
to get away in a body. As soon as the train was fair- 
ly out of sight, we sprang up and marched off at the top 
of our speed for the woods again, ultimately shaping 
our course for the mountains of East Tennessee, moving 
directly towards the Cumberland Mountains which 
constitute the dividing barrier between North Carolina 
and East Tennessee, and which were distant 160 miles 
from our present position, a fact which I learned subse- 
quently. We hoped ultimately to cross this range of 
mountains and getting into East Tennessee, we had no 
doubt of our ability then to make our way without dif- 
ficulty to Knoxville, my former post. There I expected 
I would find my regiment and would once more be 
able to shake hands with old friends. We traveled 
but little that night, as day soon commenced to dawn. 
During the day we lay in a clump of woods, entirely 
without food, not daring to emerge from our conceal- 
ment, though we could see a few houses scattered about 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORE]SrCE. 87 

in the distance. We detenned to run no more risk tlian 
was absolutely necessary, and to lie quietly by during 
tlie day, and in the evening, which would be just as 
dark as the night, endeavor to purchase some provisions 
from the negroes, by whom we were certain we should 
not be betrayed. This programme was carried out to 
the letter, though not without severe pangs of hunger, 
and many anathemas from us ou the length of the day 
and the cold, which was excessive. At night we stole 
out and traveled about two miles on our way before 
finding any negro cabin. There we stumbled on some 
situated at a distance from the house of the owner of 
the plantation. We entered one quietly, causing, how- 
ever, no little apprehension among the inmates, told 
them outright that we were escaped Union prisoners, 
that we wanted food to eat and some to carry on our 
way, and that we had money to pay for it. It was pro- 
vided at once, and we carried away enough corn bread 
and bacon, as we thought, to last us a week. We did 
not, however, stop a moment longer there than was 
necessary to procure and stow away our edibles. 
Eating in that vicinity was dangerous, and we pushed 
forward fully four or five miles before we came to a halt 
and enjoyed a hearty meal, which wonderfully revived 
us, albeit coarse. It was, however, substantial, and 
that was the sort of food which escaping captives needed . 
In this way we journeyed on for ten successive nights, 
seeing no one near enough to us in the day time to 
cause any apprehension, and at night stopping only 
once to obtain a renewed supply of provisions. For 
two days and some part of the nights of our jour- 
ney, it rained, not making our condition much plea- 
santer, though during the rain storms the severity of the 



88 SOUTHERN prisons; 

weather was sensibly mitigated. We swam several 
small streams, both of us being excellent swimmers, 
carrying our clothing in bundles strapped on our backs. 
It was wearisome, but not seriously enough to dis- 
turb men who had become so familiar with desperate 
hardships as had we. The deserted appearance ot the 
country through Vv^hich we passed struck me most for- 
cibly. It seemed as though all the planters were gone, 
and I presume they had left the country to spend i7art 
of the winter in the cities, and there squander a Dortion 
of what they had realized from the sale of their crops. 
In many instances, no doubt, an overseer was left to 
look after the the negroes, but in many cases, too, they 
were left wholly unwatched. It was not necessary that 
a white man should be present to see that they worked, 
as at this season there was but little to be done, nor had 
the Union armies approached quite near enough to this 
section to cause a general rising or escape, but many 
had run away and penetrated into Tennessee, and some 
months later saw a general liegira not only for Tennes- 
see, but even for the distant seaboard. 

The most wearisome part of our journey was through 
the swamps, where our progress was slow, and we suf- 
fered terribly from cold and the continual dampness, 
yet many of them had to be crossed, as we were entirely 
ignorant of the localities, and knew not whether an 
attempted detour round a swamp would lead us one 
mile or twenty out of our course. At the end of the ten 
days and nights spoken of above, we reached the ridge 
of mountains, and on the tenth night we slept in a cave 
on the side of the range, having determined to take a 
night' s rest, as we believed ourselves comparatively out 
of danger. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLORENCE. 89 

The next morning we were guilty of a most impru- 
dent thing, an attempt to travel successfully over the 
range "by daylight. No doubt we had finally become 
careless through our immunity from pursuit, and the 
utter quietude of the country which had characterized 
our journey previously, but we ought certainly never 
to have imperilled our chances of escape by this fool- 
hardy movement at the last hour. I believe, however, 
that it is always this last hour, when decisive success 
seems in the grasp, that most tempts the man who is ven- 
turing in anything, and most frequently proves his un- 
doing. 

It seems that the rebels, desirous of drawing every 
white man possible into their regular armies, had 
employed a tribe of Indians, friendly to them, and a 
remnant of the old Creek nation, which formerly lived 
in that section, to guard the passes of these mountains. 
They were naturally keenly on the lookout for deserters 
and stragglers, receiving a reward in money and whisky 
for every one of either class whom they brought in. A 
gang of them lying in ambush, after their native fashion, 
chanced to get a glimpse of us as we toiled up the 
mountain side, and forthwith pounced upon as. We 
ran, they pursued, firing their guns meanwhile, but 
making no serious attempts to hit us, as they wished to 
present us alive before the nearest Confederate ofiicer, 
and, after a desperate chase, Hoffman's wound again 
impeding his progress, and being greatly delayed by 
almost useless attempts to assist him, the result was 
that we were both gobbled up. 

The Indians after a little period of rest, which after 

their efforts, they required not less than we, marched us 

all day until six o'clock in the evening, intending, as 
12 



90 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

we then supposed, to carry us directly to a Confederate 
headquarters. They did not offer to search us, from 
which we inferred that the class of prisoners whom they 
usually took was made up of men who never had any 
money upon their persons. Their halt at six was 
caused by coming upon an institudon which almost 
invariably stops an Indian in these days, no matter 
upon what errand he may be bent, to-wit : a distillery. 
They had marched all day without any thing in the 
shape of a single glass of whisky to cheer or strengthen 
them. It was therefore morally impossible to pass the 
distillery without quaffing some tire-water, even though 
they had Union prisoners in charge. 

The instant I saw that they were about to stop at the 
distillery, I formed a plan of escape from these captors, 
based upon their well known love of strong drink and 
the almost certainty that, if they took t.wo or three 
glasses, they would never quit until dead drunk. So, 
as they went into the front room of the distillery and 
proceeded to order their glasses — or, rather, cups, as it 
was served in such tin vessels — I said that we were tired 
and wanted some too. They evidently had no objection, 
provided we paid the score. We all drank, smacked 
our lips, and I suggested that a second glass, or cup, 
would do us no injury. They acquiesced, and even 
were so gracious as to order a third, by which time I 
could see that the fiery liquor was working already in 
their heads, and veins. The knowledge that we were 
playing for our lives perhaps, certainly for our liberty, 
kept my comrade and myself perfectly sober. The In- 
dians now suggested that we must be going. I made 
no objection, not wishing to excite any suspicion, but 
proposed to purchase a gallon jug of whisky to carry 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 91 

along and refresh ourselves as we might need it. To 
this they gladly acceded, and with my friend and myself 
carrying the whisky, we started out into the night, all 
the Indians walking very unsteadily, and seeming much 
confused in their intellects, which at ordinary times 
were none of the clearest, owing to their almost constant 
use of intoxicating dilnks. 

A march of not more than two miles brought us to a 
sheltered spot, where they announced their intention of 
camping for the night. Before that was sought, and af- 
ter they had lighted a good fire, round which they and 
we should sleep, the jug was produced, and all com- 
menced to drink, sending it round the circle by turns 
two or three times. In half an hour every Indian ex- 
cept the one whom they had picked out as the first sen- 
tinel, was stupidly drunk, and had fallen into a deep 
heavy sleep. The sentinel was not much better, but 
being unable to walk straight, and carrying his gun in 
a way that threatened to kill one of us to a certainty if 
the hammer chanced to strike anything. Him we at 
once enticed by the jug, and we three had a drinking 
bout of half an hour more, which resulted in the senti- 
nel' s following the example of his worthy associates, 
and falling asleep as he sat up, in consequence of which 
he was only prevented from falling into the fire by our 
sudden interposition. We stayed not upon the order of 
our going, but each seized a loaded rifle, took from an 
Indian a supply of cartridges, and moved quietly out 
upon the ridge, directing our course again towards East 
Tennessee. We might easily have killed the whole 
party of Indians, and thus avoided all danger of pur- 
suit from them, but our hearts revolted at such wholesale 
slaughter, and we preferred taking our chances of escape. 



U2 SOUTHERN PRISOIirS 



CHAPTER IX. 

OUR RE-CAPTURE. 

Skirmish with the Rebel Cavalry. — The old Flag in sifht when cap- 
tured. — We are sent to Atlanta again. — I see Miss Seymour for a 
moment. 

Absence, with all its pains. 

Is in this charming moment wiped away. 

77u>mson. 

We pushed forward that night about 10 miles, over 
and down the opposite slopes of the hills, and lay in 
concealment during the next day, taught by our bitter 
experience of the day before. Early in the evening we 
started on, and had made some miles, when a turn in 
the road brought us to a little plain on the side of the 
hills, and we were alarmed to find a party of a dozen 
rebel cavabjnnen encamped upon it, with fires lighted 
and preparations made for supper. It so happened, 
unfortunately, too, that the rebels chanced to see us as 
soon as we saw them, and at once, suspecting something 
wrong, they demanded our surrender. We, having our 
muskets, refused to obey, and fired upon th^m, wound- 
ing two, but in the end, having no time to reload, we 
were both captured, and after aU the misery and toil 
incurred in our attempt to escape, we again found our- 
selves in the hands of our hated enemy, and this time 
we had no hope of being able to escape through such 
wiles as we practiced upon the Indians, as, however 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 93 

much the rebs love whisky— a cu'cum stance which they 
rarely took even the trouble to deny — it was almost im- 
possible to so lar intoxicate a squad of them as to induce 
them to become at all negligent in the case of a hated 
Yankee. 

We bivouacked all night upon the side of the hill, 
and early in the morning were taken by the rebels back 
upon its summit, and there, in the clear morning air, 
were shown the stars and stripes floating at a distance 
of several miles down in the valley, where a body of 
Union soldiers lay encamped. It was a bitter thought, 
that within sight of our own men, we were yet in the 
hands of the enemy, with the prospect of being restored 
to another long captivity. No doubt, the infernal rebs, 
with that malignity which always characterized them in 
their dealings with Union prisoners, had prepared this 
sight for us with the express view of torturing our 
hearts. In their souls, too, I have no doubt they re- 
joiced with a fiendish exultation, at the misery which 
they too clearly saw painted in our features, as we gazed 
despairingly at the national flag. As I looked far away 
over the level lands at my feet, I reflected, however, with 
grim enjoyment, that two rebels had been placed liors 
du combat the night before by the prisoners, and fer- 
vently hoped that the fortunes of war might bring me 
face to face with the enemy on the battle field before the 
struggle ended. 

We were marched to a place called Marion, and 
thence sent by rail to Atlanta again. From the time 
when I learned that Atlanta was our destination, I could 
think of nothing save Miss Seymour, and the chances 
of my being able to see her. If I could not go so far 
as to rejoice that I was being taken to Atlanta, the suf- 



94 SOTTTHERlSr PRISOI»fS ; 

fering was certainly, greatly mitigated by the retiection 
tliat I might possibly meet that being, who was now 
dearer to me than anything else in the world, and I de- 
termined that no eflTorts should be left unspared by me 
to procure an interview with her. 

The morning after our arrival at Atlanta, our roil was 
called, and our names ascertained. The authorities 
also demanded to know from what prison we had es- 
caped, and on our answering, they telegraphed to Rich- 
mond for additional information which should render 
certain our account of ourselves. Within two or three 
days, full information having been received by the 
Rebels, it was announced that we would be sent to 
Andersonville, and preparations were commenced for 
our transportation thither. In the meantime I racked 
my brains in vain to think of some plan by which I 
might see Miss Seymour, but in vain. We were so 
closely watched, that any movement outside the jail 
where we were confined was absolutely impossible, 
and on this occasion having no friends among the 
authorities of the jail, I was unable to procure any 
leave of absence, and thus during the entire term of 
our confinement at Atlanta, I was utterly unable to 
meet my love at all. 

On the morning fixed for our departure, we made an 
early start and reached the depot by about seven 
o'clock, finding there a train of cars, some devoted to 
the transportation of baggage and freight, and two 
others, on the rear of the train, being passenger coaches. 
I stood gazing listlessly about the platform, as the time 
for starting was yet distant, when, to my intense sur- 
prise, and it is needless to say to my intense delight, 1 
saw Miss Seymour appear upon the platform, and walk 



OR, JOSIE, TJSE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 95 

forward to one of tlie passenger coaches. I stood be- 
tween lier and tlie car wliicli she seemed desii-ous of 
entering, and she advanced straight towards me, though 
evidently not recognizing me until quite near, when a 
start, a half recoil, and then a blush and smile, told me 
that she remembered me. As for myself, I could not 
speak. The joy of seeing her thus near me, took from 
me all my wonted presence of mind, or control over my- 
self. I only stared at her in what I fear must have been 
an excessively rude manner, until she broke the silence 
herself. She asked me where I had been during all the 
time since I had met her at Atlanta, and in hurried low 
tones, I told her all I could compress into two or three 
minutes talk. How I had been sent away from Atlanta 
so suddenly, my imprisonment, escapes and recaptures, 
and my present destination. ^ I succeeded in learning 
that she was going on a visit to Macon, Ga., which is 
distant sixty miles from Andersonville. At this point 
in our conversation, the guards, who had been lounging 
about, but keeping a sufficient watch upon us, coming 
up, I was forced to tear myself from her, and was, with 
my companion, Hoffman, placed in the luggage car, and 
the train soon moved off. I had seen enough of Miss 
Seymour, however, to feel certain that she still took a 
lively interest in me, and I felt assured that I would see 
her at Andersonville, though she had made no such 
promise directly. 



96 80UTHEEN PEISON 8 J 



CHAPTER X. 

ANDERSONVILLE. 

The Stockade Prison, — The Swamp and River. — The Dead Line. — 
Great Throng of Prisoners. — Twenty-three Days of Rain. — The 
Great Flood. — No Shelter. — Horrible Sufferings and Brutal Treat- 
ment. 

The place thou saw'st was hell. 

The groans thou heard'st 

Of those who could not be redeemed. 

Anom/mou». 

We reached our destination about three o'clock in 
the afternoon of the same day, and were turned over to 
Captain Wirtz, commanding the Andersonville prison. 
Our first interview with him impressed us favorably, 
and not knowing his real character, we looked upon 
him then as a man of honorable sentiments, tnough 
firm in the discharge of his duties, and perhaps even 
harsh when provoked. How widely difierent a char- 
acter did we give him when thoroughly acquainted with 
his heart and intentions, as we too soon were. Within 
a very few hours we were each ornamented with a ball 
and chain attached to our legs, which Wirtz informed 
us we would have the pleasure of carrying round for 
the next three months. This was the punishment that 
we received for our late escape, and as he watched the 
blacksmith rivet them on, he said in his half Dutch, 
half English, "I fix you G — d d — d Yankees so you 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 97 

not get away again." This thirty-two pound ball we 
carried about by the chain to which it was attached, 
and after getting it on we were marched down to the 
prison, turned over to the sergeant of the fourth hun- 
dred, and ordered to join his mess. The prisoners were 
divided in this way into hundreds, and each one consti- 
tuted a squad or division of itself. Each hundred was 
again divided into five messes, of twenty men each, and 
each mess was numbered, running up 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. 

Once inside the camp, which was surrounded by a 
high stockade, a crowd assembled about us, making all 
sorts of inquiry ; first, as to the cause of our being hon- 
ored by the ball and chain, and after that, as to the par- 
ticulars of our escape and recapture. It was the first 
time in the camp that Wirtz had exhibited himself in 
his true light, as a most outrageous tjrrant, and the men 
were yet new to the idea of going round camp with 
thirt3'--two pounds of useless iron dragging after him, or 
else carried by him. They soon, however, became fami- 
liar enough with it, and learned to regard it as an unusu- 
ally mild punishment, compared with many that they 
soon experienced. I racked my wits in vain to devise 
some plan for getting rid of the ball and chain, or 
"watch and chain," as the prisoners often facetiously 
called them. Even if I got it off and buried it in the 
ground, the next morning would reveal its absence to 
the guard, and some terrible punishment would be cer- 
tain to follow. At last, however, I hit upon a plan 
which promised success, and which I determined to i^ut 
into execution at once. Procuring from one of the guards 
a file and lead bullet for a slight consideration in money, 
it being easy enough to bribe a guard at the prisons, so 

long as one could command a little Confederate scrip, 
13 



SOUTHERN PRISOTsS-, 

their passion for whisky was such, and their inability to 
gratify it so great, owing to the distress of the Confeder- 
ate Government, and their irregular payments in debased 
Confederate money. I filed out the iron rivet which held 
the shackle on my ankle, and in its stead I placed a lead 
one, which I manufactured out of the bullet. Thus I 
wore the ball and chain during roll call, and the other 
parts of the day when I was about camp in sight of 
guards or oncers. But whenever I was not liable to 
observation, I quietly removed my incumbrances, and 
took my ease like a gentleman, at least so far as the 
having no impediments to my free motions, though real 
ease at Andersonville, I soon found, was not to be pur- 
chased by any amount of money or ingenuity. Every 
morning at roll call the rebels examined the chain, but 
seeing that it was fast, they made no minute investiga- 
tion, and jumped to the conclusion that everything must 
be all right. In this way I deceived my tyrannical cap- 
tors, and did not wear the ball and chain for more than 
two hours out of the twenty-four, and at the end of ten 
days, the rebels thinking that I had been punished suffi- 
ciently, took off the disgraceful appendages altogether, 
the blacksmith himself not even discovering that the 
rivet had been changed when he removed it. 

The camp at Andersonville covered about sixteen 
acres, of which a tract of about three was covered with 
swamp, with a stream of dark, turbid water running 
through it, whose liquid looked almost as unhealthy 
and repulsive as did the waters standing about in the 
swamp. It was only a few feet wide, and passing over 
the swamp, ran through the centre of the camp, furnish- 
ing us almost all the water whioh we could obtain lor 
purposes of drink or for washing. One side of the camp 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORlWCE. 99 

Was rather low, and was kno"v\Ti as the " South Side." 
The other side was higher, and sloped in one direction 
gradually down towards the swamp. In warm weather, 
even on days in early spring, when the weather was a 
little milder than usual, the effluvium from this swamp 
was intensely disagreeable and sickening, and must have 
aided greatly in causing the excessive mortality which 
prevailed there. The dead line with which prisoners 
early became acquainted in a fearful manner, and of 
which most northerns have now heard often, was a small 
railing nailed along on the top of posts at a space of 
fifteen feet inside the stockade. The latter was about 
fifteen feet high, with boxes for the sentinels built upon 
the outside, and attached to the stockade with a plat- 
form for the guard to walk upon all the way round it, 
so that each sentinel could, whenever deemed necessary, 
make the complete circuit. The stockade itself was 
made of trees cut down and worked into logs, the ends 
sharpened and driven into the ground. The upper ends 
were also sharpened to increase the difficulty of getting 
over them. When we first arrived at Anderson ville there 
was but one stockade, but afterwards others were erected 
for greater security. It was almost bare and desolate, 
this whole prison, situated in a dark, gloomy country, 
with little to relieve the dismal prospect when I first went 
there, and everything rapidly became worse as the weeks 
rolled on. 

For the first three or four weeks after our arrival at 
Andersonville, we were tolerably well supplied with 
rations, though comprising only corn meal as a general 
thing, and a respectable allowance of wood was furnished 
in comparison with that omitted to be served at Belle* 
Isle, or sei-v-ed in such insignificant quantities as to be 



100 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

practically useless. By that time, however, all the pri- 
soners from Belle Isle had arrived, and a sudden and 
alarming reduction m the rations took place. There were 
about ten thousand men in camp ; think of that, my 
readers, ten thousand men crowded for their permanent 
quarters into sixteen acres of ground, and that too, with 
no effort at diminishing the evils which must speedily 
arise, and breed pestilence and death, with an utter 
recklessness on the part of the rebels as to whether we 
lived or died. Indeed, during the latter months of the 
war, when it was evident that their cause was lost, the 
rebels seemed determined to kill off aU the prisoners in 
their hands, and wreak on them, defenceless and at their 
mercy, vengeance for the disasters which they had 
suffered at the hands of Grant and Sherman, and the 
Union soldiers. 

Prisoners kept continually coming in from aU parts 
of the South, it being evident that the rebels intended to 
make this the grand prison-pen of the Confederacy, and 
thus avoid the expense in money and men attendant 
upon maintaining a large number of prisons, as they had 
previously done. The number within a few weeks 
reached the enormous aggregate of thirty thousand, and 
before I succeeded in escaping, no less than six thousand 
more had been added, swelling the grand total to about 
thirty-six thousand of prisoners actually received ; but 
there were probably never more than thirty thousand 
confined within the walls at one time, as by the time that 
the last detachment arrived, sickness had already made 
fearful havoc, and continued so to do, so that the time 
I speak of, when the thirty thousand were gathered 
* there, long after my arrival, was probably the occasion 
of the prison being fullest. As the numbers of the 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORElSrCE. 101 

inmates increased, too, tlie rations continually grew 
smaller. There were no issues of clothing, and the old 
scenes of suffering and misery that were experienced on 
Belle Island were renewed at Andersonville, but (m a 
grander scale. Again we were mercilessly exposed to 
cold and storms, pinched with hunger, on some days 
the sun glaring hot and deadly down upon us, utterly 
without shelter from its rays ; breeding pestilence and 
death from the swamp and river, so that it often seemed 
to me at evening, as though I could actually see death 
stalking among us, selecting his victims for attack, and 
the next day was sure to bring its cases of sudden and 
violent illness that made fresh graves within a few hours. 
As an Illustration of the dreadful sufferings which the 
Union prisoners underwent at Andersonville, before the 
downfall of the rebellion, it may not be uninteresting to 
notice the condition of things as they existed in June, 
1864. During that month, and in that section it rained 
no less than twenty-three days and nights without any 
cessation, or more than half as long as the deluge lasted 
which drowned a rebellious and wicked world. The 
whole country was under water, reducing even those in 
the enjoyment of their liberty to most abject distress, 
through the destruction of provisions and other property, 
and the complete breaking up of communications, so 
that many families were left utterly helpless, and many 
of their members perished miserably. Our camp had 
two principal features. Below was a great lake covering 
the swamp, and the little river being completely merg^-^- 
in the great body of water into which it poured and lost 
itself. The high grounds resembled the hills to which 
during the deluge thousands climbed, and m vain sought 
safety upon their lofty peaks from the advancing waters 



102 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

marcli. In tMs particular, we were many of us more 
fortunate than they. Those who remained upon the 
high grounds saved their lives at last as the waters 
receded, but in so vast a multitude it was not easy to 
obtain a position in the higher part of the camp. Hun- 
dreds of our men who were imprudent or ill were picked 
out of the swamp as the waters fell, miserably drowned, 
like wild beasts committed to the flood, but lacldng the 
ability of those to contend with the elements by reason 
of the brutality of their captors. Indeed, had the storm 
coniinued a few days longer than it did, every man in 
the camp must have perished. During aU this time we 
had no fires, though wood in immense quantities was 
l3dng at almost a stone's throw from the stockade, and a 
detail of us were willing to go out and haul it into camp, 
affording, as it would, means for establishing fires upon 
the higher grounds, and measurably relieving our dis- 
tress, caused by cold in a great measure, for the weather 
was chillingly raw and bleak, notwithstanding the season 
of the year, caused by the immense amount of water 
which had fallen, and the dense moisture and fog which 
continually hung in the atmosphere. But to all our 
entreaties for fuel the rebels turned deaf ears, evidently 
being determined to stand the storm, even though 
it seemed like defying the wrath of the Almighty, 
and was most likely to deprive them of every prisoner 
of war they had. During the whole period we were 
of course compelled by their barbarities to eat our 
scanty ration of corn meal raw, and it gave us but 
little strength to resist the ravages of the climate and 
of disease. Many of us dug holes in the sides of the 
hills and lived in them, others had little places of shelter 
constructed of the limbs of trees, while full one-half the 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREjS^CE. 103 

camp had no shelter whatever. There were hundreds of 
carpenters and builders in the camp, who could easily 
and would readily have built sheds for us all, had the 
rebels furnished lis with any sort of materials, no matter 
of how rude a description, but this they persistently 
refused to do. At last, apparently being worn out by 
our incessant importunities for shelter, and probably 
apprehending a serious mutiny from desperate men if 
the request were longer denied, they compromised mat- 
ters — a movement which the South always favored, and 
recommended as the true solution for all impending dif- 
ficulties and dangers — they erected some cook houses 
outside of the stockade and a bakery, cooked our rations 
for us, each man receiving one fourth of a loaf of corn- 
bread to serve him twenty-four hours, together with an 
inflnitessimal piece of meat, and two gills of cow beans. 
The hospital was also moved out of camp. This institu- 
tion then consisted of a few old army tents, now rotten, 
and affording almost no protection against a storm. We 
were left in our desperate situation inside the camp, 
rendered, it is true, a shade less deplorable by receiving 
a little better food, but yet seeming almost hopeless. 
On one occasion, I saw the guard bring into the camp 
our loaves of bread conveyed in a wagon, into which, on 
returning, they threw the dead body of a soldier on 
whom foul insects were already feeding and literally 
covering, and then drag him forth to burial. 

A horrible feature of the Andersonville prison was 
the fact that no sooner was a man dead than he was 
almost invariably stripped of his clothing by his surviv- 
ing comrades ; so great was the destitution and misery 
in this respect, that the men forgot the commonest loves 
of friendship, and left a dead comrade lying naked on 



104 SOUTHEKN PEISONS ; 

the field for the sake of obtaining the miserable rags, 
which hardly concealed his nakedness before his death. 
To see these naked dead men going thus from the dead 
house to the grave-yard was, however, an awful sight 
for every Union prisoner who still retained any tithe of 
his manhood, and called up bitter feelings of revenge 
against our oppressors who were, of course, the prime 
causes of all. 

By this time men were dying off like sheep with the 
rot, and, as there was no longer entertained any hope of 
exchange until the Rebellion should be crushed, the 
prospects of all confined at Andersonville were of the 
most appalling kind. 

In fact things were in such a desperate situation that 
my thoughts began again to revert to some plan of 
escape, notwithstanding the fruitlessness of the last 
attempt, and the sufierings endured in it in vain. Miss 
Seymour, too, had induced me to believe on the occasion 
of her parting from me at Atlanta that she would see me 
again, and haunting thoughts of her sweet face and win- 
ning manner again filled my brain. 

Might I but through my prison once a day- 
Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
Let liberty make use of; space enough 

Have I, in such a prison. 

Shakspeare^s Tempest. 

I could not cease wondering whether she was still at 
Macon, and how long it would be before she would come 
to Andersonville, and make some effort for my release, 
for so I construed her parting words, and I was certain 
that with her powerful assistance on the outside of the 
hated camp, and my desperate determination to escape, 
I would not be long in Andersonville after I had once 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 105 

seen her, even thongh the attempt should cost me my 
life. I was sanguine, however, that it would not. 
Despite all I had undergone, I had not yet, unlike so 
many of my unfortunate companions, lost all my natu- 
ral strength of body, agility of limb, or resolution and 
nerve when in critical emergencies, and the thought of 
Miss Seymour acted upon me like the fine wine of 
Maderia, infusing vitality, vigor, and determination into 
my whole system. 



14 



106 SOUTHERN PRISONS :. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE ESCAPE AND RECAPTURE. 

The Southern Swamps. — The Runaway Slaves. — Their home in the 
Swamps. — Pursued by Bloodhounds. — Increased Brutality by Wirtz. 
— The Torture Racks. — Shooting of the Prisoners. 

What say you now ? What comfort have we now .'' 
By Heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly. 
That bids me be of comfort any more. 

Shakapeare. 

After many weary days of watching, however, and 
seeing that Miss Seymour did not make her appearance, 
and fearing lest some misfortune should have occurred, 
preventing her from visiting Andersonville and endea- 
voring by her influence to secure mj^ release, and, as the 
thought that any evil might have befallen her goaded 
me almost to madness, I determined to make my escape 
at once, if possible, and this time push right for Macon, 
where I hoped I might find her living yet. I at once 
sought Hoffman to confide to him the plan of getting 
away, which I this time quickl}^ matured, and consulted 
him in reference to it, and as to whether he was read}^ to 
tbin in the attempt. The plan was the following : The 
men who were now guarding us were levies who had 
never seen any actual service, as the experienced sol- 
diers had now to a man been drafted to the front to 
resist Grant, but were what was known during the war 
as ' ' Home Gruards. ' ' They had an especial love for any 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 107 

little piece of money or any trinkets they could possi- 
bly obtain from a Yankee, even worshipping the gilt 
buttons on his coat, they themselves being uniformly 
clad in the homeliest and plainest of home-made gar- 
ments, without decoration of any kind. A few of these 
buttons would often purchase from soldiers who had 
just been paid off in Confederate money all the way 
from a peck to a bushel of trash, which was yet ofien 
useful as has been seen in reciting the history of our 
former escapes. 

I made arrangements with one of these guards to take 
Hoffman and myself out to get some wood, a thing 
which they were much in the habit of doing, especially 
when paid a little something for it, as they were 
moderately opposed to taking any trouble to get wood 
into the camp for the use of the prisoners, when they 
CO aid possibly make the latter bring it themselves. 
Hoffman had determined to try the chance of escape 
with, me and we started for the prison gate at the time 
appointed, where we found the guard awaiting us, he 
having obtained permission from the officer in charge to 
take the two Yankees out after wood, he to be held 
responsible for their safe return to camp. We walked 
along for some distance with the utmost cordiality and 
freedom, the guard evidently suspecting nothing wrong, 
although carrying his musket, as they habitually did. 
This friendly intercourse continued in the most harmo- 
nious manner until we had reached a safe place, a deep 
part of the woods, to be totally unheard and un- 
seen by any one, particularly by those at the camj). 
There becoming particularly friendly with the guard, I 
seized his gun and Hoffman caught him by the throat. 
He was hurled to the ground, and after a slight struggle 



108 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

I obtained possession of the gun, his cartridge box and 
his jacket, and we made him completely our prisoner. 
Of course it would not have done to allow him to go 
directly back to camp and acquaint the officers there 
with what had happened to him. In that event we 
might better never have escaped at all ; so we marched 
him along with us, threatening to shoot him dead in his 
tracks if he uttered a word above a whisper. He was 
dreadfully frightened, having had no conception when 
he brought us out of the prison that we would have the 
hardihood to attempt to escape, and gave us no trouble 
or cause at all for putting our threat into execution. 

Before the next morning broke we had traveled some 
twenty miles, the unfortunate guard expressing the most 
intense fatigue and entreating us to release him, making 
all kinds of promises, which we regarded with equal 
distrust. At last about morning he was really taken 
seriously ill from the fatigue he had been compelled to 
undergo, and having no such hopes as buoyed us up in 
our attempt to escape, seemed utterly unable to go 
further, only standing even when supported by both 
of us. 

At first we were driven to the thought of shooting 
him to provide for the safety of our own lives, but our 
better judgment and conscience prevailed, and we deter- 
mined to spare his life, being somewhat influenced to 
this conclusion by the fact that we knew our lives would 
both pay the forfeit of his, if his death and the authors 
of it became known and we were subsequently retaken. 
We took him to a farm house by the road side where 
there was luckily no man near, told them that he was 
ill and needed assistance, (he having faithfully promised 
that if we would spare his life he would not betray our 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 109 

real characters,) and continued our journey. Before we 
left this place, however, we obtained a good supply of 
rations, and we shaped our course from thence towards 
the Flinch riv^, which we learned was distant about 14 
miles. We reached it just as the shades of the evening 
were closing in, and after wandering some distance up 
and down the river, found a boat and oars which we 
seized and paddled and floated down the river about 
eight miles. Then taking to the land on the other bank 
we pushed forward through wood mainly for four or five 
miles, when our progress was arrested by the appear- 
ance of a large swamp, that curse of our traveling on 
foot in the South, and which was always dreaded by the 
escaping prisoner, though if he desired simply refuge 
from a pursuing enemy, he welcomed its appearance 
with joy as he plunged into its deep recesses and hid 
secure from the enemy. 

We had no recourse save to plunge through it and 
attempt to cross, as I have observed before, it being 
dangerous to attempt a detour round them, as it is utter- 
ly impossible to estimate how vast any one might be or 
how much time it might consume to execute a flank 
movement round it. 

It was only with the utmost labor and suflfering that 
we made any progress through the swamp, often being 
up to our waists in water, and morning found us still 
involved in its meshes. Almost despairing of ever em- 
erging from it by pursuing the direction in which we 
had thus far been traveling, we changed our course and 
bore east, and after a desperate tramp night at last 
found us again walking upon dry land. 

After partaking of a hearty meal which the fatigues 
of our long march rendered peculiarly palatable, we 



110 SOUTHERN PRISONS* 

sougM shelter for the night in a thick clump of woods, 
and both lay down to sleep in an old hollow log, when 
despite our terrible fatigues and the cold of the night, 
[and here it must be remembered that the nights in the 
South are almost always cold, even in summer months, 
and that this is especially true of those localities which 
we were then traversing — the low lands and swamps of 
the Carolinas — covered with a deep jungle and dense 
woods, which shut out perpetually the heat and light of 
the sun and are often soaked with water,] we slept 
soundly, and the rest did us good, even though we woke 
with stiffened limbs in the morning. 

The swamps of the South, at this period, not only 
harbored more refugees than ever before, but a number 
that to those who were not compelled to explore them, 
as I was in my repeated attempts to escape, would have 
seemed marvelous. They were filled with both negroes 
and Union prisoners, and many a Southern deserter 
harbored within their recesses. It is well known that 
there are islands lying within the densest parts of them, 
almost unknown to the world generally in respect of 
their particular locations, and haunted only by runaway 
and desperate negroes, mingled with whom were a few 
lawless poor whites, during the old prosperous days 
of slavery. Even then, when it was of vital interest to 
the masters to preserve their so-called property, and no 
gigantic civil war divorced their attention from the care 
of their estates, runaway slaves lived on these islands in 
the great swamps for years unmolested, and in time 
strong bands were formed who maintained their subsist- 
ence by carrying off from planters and slaves whatever 
they needed, at dead of night, and then withdrew in 
security to their fastnesses. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. Ill 

During the war not only did the number of runaway 
negroes greatly increase throughout the swamps, but 
they were joined by hundreds of Union prisoners and 
Rebel deserters, and all made common cause against the 
common and recognized enemy. They ultimately be- 
came a terror to all classes, the negroes often preferring 
this lawless, predatory life to the chances of an escape 
to the North, which were frequently furnished them, and 
the Confederate deserters recognizing the fact that they 
had neither friends at the North or South to fly to, in 
the former case rushing into the arms of a declared 
enemy, and in the latter goingj^to almost certain death, 
either by being shot for desertion or by the Yankees, in 
the ranks where they would, in the latter event, at once 
be placed ; the deserters we say, stayed in the swamps 
with theii' Aewly made negro friends, and were as law- 
less and desperate as any members of the gang could 
possibly be. Many of them, too, would have preferred 
just such a desperate, reckless life, to any involving 
honest industry and peaceful occupations, and gladly 
took it up without being influenced by the pressing cir- 
cumstances in question. They came from a degraded and 
brutalized stock, which for years had been upon a par 
with the slaves, if not their inferiors, and were fit mates 
for these runaways in the swamps. Often have I met 
these characters, but never sufi'ered hai-m from them, 
probably for two reasons ; first, I was a Union prisoner 
escaping, and he was the last man the blacks could 
ordinarily injure, and partly because I never carried 
with me anything to excite in any degree their cupidity, 
which oftentimes seems to completely dethrone the rea- 
son of men of low passions and thoughts, and causes 
them in a moment of positive madness to commit somtj 



112 soiJTHEEN PRisoisrs ; 

crime for which their lives pay the forfeit. Nevertheless 
they were not pleasant individuals to meet in a lonely 
swamp, and I eventually avoided them whenever pos- 
sible. 

On rising from our cold couches we pushed forward, 
after a good breakfast, though not exhibiting much 
variety, upon our journey. We had determined to 
travel through the unfrequented country we were now in 
in the day time, keeping close in the woods whenever 
profitable, in order to accelerate our progress, which, 
when we walked only at night, was necessarily exceed- 
ingly slow, tedious, and ^productive of great strain upon 
the system. When we should reach the more open and 
thickly settled districts of Georgia we proposed to lie 
by in the day and push on at night alone. 

But the same circumstances which had undone us 
before, proved the ruin of our hopes on this occasion. 
We had only made three or four miles of the day's 
journey, when we were terrified to hear the barking 
of dogs on our track. We knew instantly that they 
were the accursed bloodhounds, and no doubt were 
accompanied by men who were in hot pursuit of us. 
No stream was near which we could cross, the means of 
safety when pursued by bloodhounds, and as they 
approached nearer and finally sprang in sight there 
remained little time for us to consume in considering on 
our course. There was no resource except for each of 
us to take to a tree, and await developments, which we 
accordingly did, just in time to save ourselves from 
being torn to pieces by the ravenous creatures. True, I 
could have shot one with the gun I had seized from the 
guard, but ere I could have reloaded the remainder of 
the pack would have drunk my life' s blood. As soon 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE. 113 

ds we were rested in the trees, out of immediate harm' s 
way, the masters of the hounds appeared round a turn 
in the road. They were only two, but both were well 
mounted and armed, and clearly a complete overmatch 
for our little garrison. They rode up to the trees, at the 
foot of which the dogs were baying, and demanded our 
surrender, saying that we were their prisoners, they also 
requested that we come immediately down out of the trees, 
or they would suddenly find means to bring us down, 
at the same time putting their hands upon theu' guns in 
a very ominous manner. Resistance was hopeless, so 
we came down, as required, and surrendered ourselves. 

The disappointment was bitterly severe after the 
hardships we had undergone, and the fond hopes we 
had just began to cherish of getting through to Macon 
in safety. We were, too, not unmindful of the ferocious 
temper of a certain Captain Wirtz, who might very pos- 
sibly order us to be shot like dogs on our return. But 
lamentations were unavailing, and we were marched 
back to Andersonville, when we were at once recognized 
by Captain Wirtz, who looked more ghastly and grieved 
than ever before, and who instantaneously picked me 
out as the individual who had worn the ball and chain. 
At first he raved about like a madman, threatening alter- 
nately to shoot and hang us for carrying off* his sentry, 
he having evidently learned all froai the latter. He was 
as deeply enraged at the guard for allowing himself to 
be thus deceived, and warned him that a repetition of 
such an offence might probably imperil his own life, 
which the guard seemed fully to appreciate. 

He finally contented himself with putting us into the 
stocks, which, being little known at the North, it may 
be well to describe. 

15 



114 SOUTHERN prisons; 

The stocks, as invented and used by tlie Rebels, were 
entirely different from those of early English days, when 
they were first invented. The latter consisted of a seat 
of wood for the culprit to sit upon, and a bar of wood 
in which several circular holes had been made, through 
which the feet of the culprit were thrust and fastened. 
To be set in the stocks was always considered a dis- 
graceful affair, as they were invariably set up in the 
public market, or some other equally public place, and 
the victim was hooted and hissed by the mob, and espe- 
cially by the children, who visited the stocks as a regular 
place of youthful amusement. In a picture by William 
Hogarth, the stocks are admirably represented, and the 
dress, customs and peculiarities of the early English 
times, excellently set forth. The last instance of any 
one being set in the stocks in England was in the latter 
part of the last century. The person condemned to this 
punishment, however, in England, suffered no positive 
pain, except such as resulted from sitting in one position 
for a considerable length of time, and the numbness 
which was certain to ensue. The Rebels showed, how- 
ever, that in the nineteenth century, they were more 
barbarous than their English ancestors of a hundred 
years ago. 

The stocks invented by them were infinitely more 
painful and cruel. The Rebels laid the victim flat upon 
his back, then raised his arms above his head, stretching 
them as far as they possibly could, without pulling them 
out of the sockets, and fastened them in holes made in 
a bar. Then his legs were similarly stretched, and fas- 
tened in a corresponding bar. In this position he was 
usually condemned to remain for twenty-four hours, 
and the torture after a few minutes of this stretchinjg: 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 115 

process became almost unbearable. This operation they 
repeated upon us tliree times in succession, each time 
causing us most intense agony, and very nearly pro- 
ducing fatal results on the last occasion, our vital 
powers being so exhausted that we could not stand at 
all for hours, and both feeling certain that at last we 
were destined to perish through the unmitigated bar- 
barity of our captors. After lying on the ground, how- 
ever, for some time, we gradually recovered from our 
exhaustion sufficiently to move about, and the old 
routine of prison life recommenced. 

The most inhuman brutalities began, about this time, 
to be commenced by orders of Captain Wirtz, either 
through his own malignity or the instructions of his 
superiors. I have already described, somewhat, Wirtz' s 
appearance as being pale and ghastly in the extreme. 
He was a Prussian by birth, and professed some expe- 
rience in the routine of military duty, having served for 
several years in some subordinate capacity in the Prus- 
sian army. He lacked, however, that marked ability 
which leads men to positions of power and high respon- 
sibility, and thus remained in subordinate places in the 
Confederate army, as he had done at home. He was, 
too, a man eminently fitted for doing the mean, dirty 
work of those higher in rank, no matter how cruel or to 
what results that work might lead. And so it chanced 
that he had been placed under the charge of General 
Winder, who had the general control of all prisoners, 
and was in command at Andersonville. His manners to 
superiors were extremely subservient, even cringing, 
while to those under his authority they were invariably 
brutal and overbearing. It seemed, however, as though 
a shadow of the fearful doom which was to overtake 



116 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

him haunted him even thus early. He continually grew 
paler and more ghastly, and his eyes had often a 
look of anxiety and sometimes even terror in them, 
which was then a sense of wonder to us, but which his 
conscience must have prompted, and his subsequent 
acts fully justified. When, as though in despair of 
ever changing his character or habits of brutality, he 
would expend all his devilish ingenuity in devising 
means for our torture. At last he commenced to give 
the sentinels rigid instructions concerning the enforce- 
ment of the regulations in reference to the dead line, and 
forthwith a series of brutal murders disgraced the camp 
and its commander. No prisoner was liable to be shot 
unless he clearly and purposely crossed the dead line, by 
the regulations. But Wirtz instructed the guards to 
watch them closely, and if they entertained any doubt as 
to whether a man was upon or about to cross the line to 
shoot him down. So, if a soldier walking past it chanced 
to stumble against it, or in any accidental way approach 
too near it, he was fired upon and generally killed, and 
every day were witnessed numbers of our men literally 
murdered ia this way. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 117 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE DEAD HOUSE. 
A Rebel Sees a Ghost. — Capture of the 17th Michigan Regiment.—- 
Sad News from Home. — Plan of Escape. — I am Carried to the 
Dead House. — Wirtz Again. — The Prison Raiders. — Execution of 
the Leaders. — Organization of 1,000 Police. 
I beseech you 
Wrest once the law to your authority ; 
To do a great right, do a little wrong. 

Shakspeare. 

After a few days rest and partial recovery from the 
suffering which I had undergone, my thoughts again 
commenced to reflect on some project by which I might 
gain my liberty. After much agitation I hit upon one 
which seemed likely to succeed, but the execution of it 
would necessitate my leaving Hoffman behind, a course 
which I deeply regretted and long hesitated in taking. 
I could, however, at that time devise only this one 
scheme, and besides Hoffman was not well, and from his 
old wound at Belle Island and the subsequent brutal 
treatment which he had received at the hands of the 
Rebels, was unfit to sustain the fatigues of a long and 
perilous journey at this time. I therefore determined to 
carry out my plan, and with that view in the early 
morning I was found lying upon the ground to all ap- 
pearance dead, a disguise in which I was greatly aided 
by my cadaverous, pale and worn out appearance. A» 
the finding men lying dead upon the ground was an 



118 -S^UTBEBN PRISONS ; 

every morning' s incident, and I had no special friends 
save Hoffman and the two stretcher-bearers who had 
arranged to carry me out, to whom I had communicated 
my plans, no particular regard was paid to me, but I 
was lifted on to a stretcher by the two bearers agreed 
upon and carried to the dead house, which was just 
outside of the stockade. The Rebels were inhnitely 
more careless and reckless concerning the dead prisoners 
than were the prisoners concerning each other, and con- 
sequently as soon as I was carried out to the dead house 
they at once dumped me down among the dead bodies 
and paid no further attention to me. I intended to 
remain quiet until darkness set in, as I knew that the 
bodies would not be removed for burial until the next 
morning, and then make good my escape. It chanced, 
however, that as I was being carried through the gate 
on the stretcher, one of the Rebel guards happened to 
spy upon my feet a pair of good shoes, an article of 
which he was himself just then sorely in need. No 
doubt he inwardly determined to rob the body of them 
at the very first opportunity. During the hours that I re- 
mained in the dead house, as they slowly drew along, I 
kept my eyes closed almost all the time lest some one 
might enter suddenly, knowing that the Rebels had a dis- 
gusting habit of going to where the dead prisoners lay, 
looking at them with malignant triumph, making insult- 
ing remarks concerning those who were far beyond the 
reach of their cruelty and scorn, and even spurning the 
bodies with their feet. 

Just before darkness came on, and when I expected 
soon to be at liberty, I heard some one enter, but sup- 
posing it to be some Rebel who had come to stare at the 
dead as usual, I kept my eyes fast closed and stirred not. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 119 

hoping that, as he seemed alone, he would soon retire and 
leave me at liberty to carry out my plans. Suddenly I 
felt him working at my shoes, as if trying to take them 
ofL Being rather alarmed myself at what he might 
subsequently do if he succeeded in this, I determined to 
take a sly look at the would-be shoe-thief. As I opened 
my eyes, however, he chanced to look up and meet my 
gaze fixed upon him. The shock communicated to him 
was like that produced by the concussion of a powerful 
electric battery. He reeled backward, gave one unearth- 
ly yell and tore out of the door as if possessed with a 
devil. Before I had time to determine what course to 
take under these embarrassing circumstances the horri- 
fied Rebel had got together a strong file of soldiers and 
returned to the dead house, determined to investigate 
the matter and ascertain whether a ghost or a man had 
taken possession of the establishment. Their suspicions 
being fully roused, they very soon detected the imposi- 
tion sought to be practiced upon them, and gobbling 
me ^^p with very little ceremony, though with deep dis- 
gust expressed in their countenances at having been 
overreached thus far, they marched me back to the camp 
and lodged me in the guard house. 

After the officer had made his report, I was then 
taken before Captain Wirtz, and this time he seemed 
quite aghast at my presumption, and utterly at a loss 
how to deal with a prisoner who bid defiance to all 
restraints and punishments, and seemed determined to 
escape from Andersonville stronghold at all hazards. 
After deep reflection as to what he could do with me 
equal to the occasion, he ordered a sixty pound ball 
and chain riveted on my leg, sent me back to the guard 
ouse in charge of a guard, and fed me on bread and 



120 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; 

water, stating also that this would be my punishment 
until I would solemnly promise him that I would never 
attempt to escape again. Three days elapsed in this 
way, but I would give him no such promise,' and being 
wearied out by my obstinacy and the trouble he had 
already had with me, he told me that if I would give 
him my parole of honor that I would not leave the 
vicinity, he would keep me on the outside of the camp 
all the time, and I should enjoy comparative liberty. 
This I would willingly have done had I not wished to 
see Hoffman, who was in camp alone. I therefore 
refused to do so at the time, and Wirtz, becoming highly 
exasperated, sent me back into prison, the very result I 
had hoped for, threatening, however, to shoot or hang 
me if I attempted to get away again. 

A few days after my failure to escape, there arrived 
at Andersonville about four hundred more prisoners, 
taken from the army of the Rapidan, then under Gen 
Grant, at the battle of Spottsylvania, C. H. Among 
them were eighty officers and men of my regiment, the 
17th. At the time that battle was fought the regiment 
numbered only about one hundred officers and men, so 
much had it been reduced by losses in battle, disease 
and the other fatalities which soldiers continually meet 
in the progress of a campaign. I was the only one 
living out of the eighteen who had been taken in East 
Tennessee belonging to that regiment, a sad commentary 
on the hardships and sufferings which had been inflicted 
upon us. The meeting my old friends was an occasion 
in which joy and grief were mingled in about equal pro- 
portions ; joy at seeing familiar faces and learning news 
that I could rely upon concerning the movements of the 
army, and from my distant home in Detroit ; grief at the 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIISrE OF FLORENCE. 121 

mournful tale I had to relate of the miseries and sad 
ends of my former companions and the sad picture I 
was compelled to lay before these newly found friends. 

The arrival of the men brought, however, to me an 
almost fatal affliction, the news of the death of my 
mother, whom I loved better than all else in the world, 
and whose last words, I learned, were of her son. I 
was almost stunned by the shock, more especially when 
I reHected that my being a prisoner in the hands of the 
accursed Rebels had probably hastened her death. For 
a time I -was completely crushed by this calamity, but 
after a long interval greater serenity of mind returned, 
and I bore the affliction with as much resignation as was 
possible, knowing that she was happy with her God, and 
trusting that from the spirit land she might look down 
upon me, know that I still lived, and watch over and 
guide me. 

July 11th was one of the most exciting and darkest 
in the history of Andersonville. The men had become 
desperate through long, suffering and manifested such a 
state of insubordination as not only astonished them- 
selves, but alarmed and amazed the Eebels. Hitherto 
we had been guarded by only one stockade ; now they 
went hastily to work and constructed three more, 
encircling the one already built, and as additional pre- 
cautions they erected four larger forts just outside of the 
outer stockade, in which they placed small garrisons 
and a number of cannon, so as to resist any desperate 
attempts which we might make to rush out at all 
hazards. They also sent to Atlanta for assistance, and 
the dangerous condition of affairs at Andersonville being 
represented, another regiment was sent from there to 

16 



122 SOUTHEET^ PKISOI^S; 

their aid, thus taking away almost every possibility of 
our breaking out and escaping in a body. 

A scene of indescribable horror and confusion com- 
menced to reign within the prison and among the 
prisoners themselves. Desperate at their situation and 
hopeless of relief, they commenced quarreling among 
themselves, and the outrages which soon transpired sur- 
passed in terror any scenes that had yet been witnessed 
in the prison in its darkest days. 

It even finally went so far that regular bands were 
formed among the prisoners, led on by desperate men, 
for the purpose of assailing with violence other Union 
men in confinement, and plundering them of what few 
necessaries they had upon them. Nor were these des- 
peradoes at all chary of taking human life. On the 
slightest resistance the victim was knocked on the head, 
and often killed by a single blow or two from a heavy 
club, or stabbed to death with a knife. The instant the 
person attacked was stunned, everything of any utility 
to the robbers was stripped off him. If he chanced to 
have on a good suit of clothes throughout, he was com- 
pletely denuded, and not unfi-equently left lying stark 
naked upon the ground. 

These organizations soon increased until they num- 
bered in the aggregate fully eight hundred members, and 
had become a terror to all the other prisoners in the 
camp. It became evident that unless some rigorous 
measures were taken to break up these bands of " Raid- 
ers," as they were called, the whole camp would soon 
be at their mercy, and they would saciifice the property 
and even lives of their comrades at their will. 

A strong police force was accordingly organized, 
numbering within a few days not fewer than a thousand 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOKENCE. 123 

men, each carrying a rude but effective club, which, 
wonderful to relate, we had obtained through the con- 
sent and assistance of the Rebels. The secret of their 
willingness, however, probably was that they had grown 
so apprehensive themselves of what might some day 
happen from these desperate characters, that they were 
glad to see them crushed out, even by their Yankee 
associates. It was determined that the ringleaders 
of the robber gang should be arrested and dealt 
with, and it was hoped and believed that this action 
would so intimidate the others that they would cause us 
no further trouble. Accordingly, late in the evening the 
police in various quarters of the camp, going in strong 
bodies, succeeded in arresting most of those for whom 
they were in search, but only after a desperate struggle, 
in which several men were killed and a large number 
badly beaten and cut with knives, so that several of them 
died afterwards. After arresting these leaders, six in 
number, they were tried by a court-martial appointed 
by the prisoners, and a verdict of guilty of murder and 
robbery was rendered, after which they were sentenced 
by the court to be hung forthwith by the neck until 
dead. 

A large scaffold was erected on the south side of the 
camp, and with a great crowd in attendance, the prison- 
ers were, the next afternoon after their arrest, hanged. 
The whole affair naturally created much commotion, 
but the prisoners justified our action, and it struck such 
terror into the hearts of their confederates, that they 
abandoned the gangs at once, which thus ceased to 
exist. One of the men so executed was named Curtis, 
he being the principle leader of all the gangs ; another 
was called Mosby, while the names of the rest I was 



124 SOUTHEEN PKisoisrs ; 

never able to ascertain with any certainty, as on being 
arraigned for trial, they undoubtedly gave fictitious 
names. The police force, thus constituted, was main- 
tained, notwithstanding the overthrow of the robbers, 
that we might have peace and quiet in future, and that 
result, so far as any acts of our own men were con- 
cerned, was effected. 



OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 125 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DEATH OF HOFFMAN. 

Tunnels dug by the Prisoners. — A successful Escape. 

The soul, too soft its ills to bear, 
Has left our mortal hemisphere, 
And sought, in better world, the meed 
To blameless life by heaven decreed, 

ScoWs Rokeby. 

A favorite scheme among the prisoners was to escape 
through digging tunnels; that is, at some quiet place 
away from the guards, dig into the earth, carry the ex- 
cavation under the stockade, and come out in the night 
beyond the last. I suppose my friend Hoffman and 
myself dug more tunnels, or assisted in digging more, 
than any other two men in prison in the Confederate 
States. Yet for some reason or other, these tunneling 
projects hardly ever proved successful, either in my own 
experience or in that of others, whose attempts I heard 
of then, or afterwards learned of. 

The mode in which this tunneling was done was this : 
Of course all work upon them, as a rule, had to be done 
at night, to avoid the watchfulness of the guards, who 
were always prowling and spying about when least 
wanted. First, the earth was removed to a depth of four 
or five feet below the surface, and then the tunnel was 
turned in the direction in which we wished it to run, 



126 souTHEKN prisons; 

gradually working down deeper into the eartli, tiU ^ 
depth of eight or ten feet below the surface had beer* 
attained. Work was continued upon the tunnel, which 
was made just large enough for a man to crawl through 
without difficulty, until morning was tpar, and then we 
ceased operations for the day. A flooring- of boards was 
placed over the mouth of the tunnel, being adjusted into 
the sides a little below the surface, and the dirt was 
heaped and trampled down until it was on a level with, 
and resembled perfectly the floor of the tent or the 
ground, wherever it might be. 

The reader will naturally wonder what disposition we 
made of our dirt. The swamp water having been found 
very unhealthy for drinking purposes, much of the lime 
standing very low after the great rains subsided, and the 
effects of these began to disappear, as they quickly did 
during the hot season which followed, and the moisture 
in the swamps being more rapidly absorbed through the 
porous lands underneath them, than where the water 
covered hard bottoms, it was found by the prisoners 
that by digging wells in camp, they could secure for 
themselves far better water for drinking. Accordingly, 
the Rebels furnished us with shovels, always remem- 
bering, however, to carry them away again at night. 
By degrees, however, we managed to steal two or three 
of these shovels for our mess, by telling our captors 
most positively at night, when they came to demand 
them, that they had not given us as many by two or 
three, as they declared they had, and now wanted re- 
turned. Usually a violent dispute arose concerning the 
matter, but, we having placed them by that time far 
beyond the reach of the Rebels, unless a thorough search 
were instituted throughoy.t the whole camp, they were 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCik 127 

forced to put up with our denial, swearing that those 
were the last shovels we would get for digging wells or 
for any other purpose. They usually, too, did not report 
the matter when it could possibly be avoided, to their 
superiors, knowing that blame would fall on them, and 
prefering to avoid an interview with C«?Totain Wirtz as 
long as possible. Inasmuch as we were iiow in the pos- 
session of some shovels ourselves, we cared little whether 
others were furnished us or not. During the day we 
dug on the wells, and carried the dirt to the swamp, into 
which we threw it. Then during the night we worked 
at the tunnel, and threw the dirt either into our well, or 
into that of somebody else. Often in the morning great 
commotion would be noticeable among a mess whose 
well had nearly been filled up by a sqaad not far away, 
who were digging a tunnel. The well party would curse 
and swear and rare about their quarters, execrating the 
unknown parties who had compelled them to dig their 
well out again, but as they were pretty sure it had been 
done because that party was tunneling, and they very 
likely were busy in the same way, they never made com- 
plaints to the Rebels, but with many dire curses went to 
work and cleaned it out, taking the precaution for some 
nights following, to have one of their mess stand guard 
over it. Those occasions when we were wont to fill up 
the wells dug by other parties, were when we had done 
an unusually heavy night' s work on the tunnel, and had 
taken out so much du't, that to throw it all into our own 
well would nearly have filled it up, and might have 
excited suspicion among the Rebels if they had exam- 
ined it during the next day. 

In the process of digging these tunnels, however, 
many vexations and delays were experienced, some dan- 



128 SOUTHERN prisons; 

gers and inmimerable hindrances and disappointments. 
Of course, in digging a small tunnel like one such as we 
dug, it was not supposed necessary to support the roof 
by props, as is always done when constructing a tunnel 
of any dimensions. To do this, probably, would have 
been a very slow operation, and we should have found 
it very difficult to procure the adequate means. Any 
attempt to do so would too, in all probability, have 
created suspicion, and frustrated all our plans. Where 
the soil was solid and good there was no use of these 
props, but when we suddenly sometimes struck sand or 
broken soil, down came the whole institution for several 
feet, and the diggers might narrowly escape being hur- 
ried alive. Then most arduous labor and some propping, 
or else diversion of the course of the tunnel was rendered 
necessary, and frequently three or four nights labor re- 
quired. Tunneling, too, so great a distance as we had 
to, in order to pass the camp ground and al' , the stock- 
ades, was a work that required long time and infinite 
patience, and many who commenced similar undertak- 
ings, gave them up in disgust before one-tenth of the 
labor had been done. Yet at the time of which I write, 
not fewer than one hundred to two hundred were in 
course of construction. 

Another plan of escape was devised by us, in which 
a Rebel sergeant was to play a conspicuous part. It 
was arranged by several of the prisoners with one of 
the sergeants on guard outside the prison, that he and 
the prisoners engaged in the scheme should, on a given 
day, make their exit together, and all push for the Union 
lines. The plan could not be carried out without the 
pretty manifest co-operation of the sergeant, and he 
therefore determined to be oflT too, as his position would 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 129 

no longer be an enviable one at the South, especially 
with Captain Wirtz, whose temper was fast getting worse. 
The guard had engaged to furnish to each man of the 
Yankee squad a gun and sixty rounds of ammunition. 
Hoffman and myself were at an early day informed of 
the plan, and made haste to be enrolled among those 
contemplating the undertaking. Everything was pre- 
pared for the start, the day being fixed, and all promis- 
ing fairly, when I began to be alarmed concerning the 
state of Hoffman's health. A careful examination of 
him, and the advice of the Rebel surgeons, revealed the 
sorrowful fact that his constitution was irretrievably 
ruined, and that he had but a few more days in which 

to dwell on this earth. 

ft 

At the day appointed the arrangements for getting 
out were continued, but by that time Hoffman was at 
the point of death. I watched by him in the evening. 
He knew that he was dying and implored me to go with 
the rest and leave him to that fate which was soon cer- 
tain. I saw that the chances of escape were this time 
excellent, and must confess that I regretted Hoffman's 
illness bitterly on more than one account, yet I deter- 
mined, after turning the matter over in my mind, that 
it would be the part of a coward to leave him to die 
alone, after the intimate friendship which had subsisted 
between us, and I concluded to forego my own interests 
and wait and watch until the agel of death should call 
him. It turned out that I had not over-estimated the 
prospects of a successful issue of this attempt at escape, 
as the whole party, led by the Rebel sergeant, succeded 
in gaining the Union lines in safety. A strong pack of 
bloodhounds and a squad of well-armed men were dis- 
patched in pursuit of them as soon as their escape was 



130 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

discoved, but their expedition was attended witli very 
disastrous results. About twenty miles beyond Ander- 
sonville, and on a Northern route, they came up with 
the fleeing prisoners and their Rebel guide, on the 
Flinch River, and making an assault upon them and an 
attempt to capture them, were completely driven off", all 
of the dogs but two being killed, one man killed and 
three of ihem badly wounded. The news of this suc- 
cessful attempt when communicated to us caused some 
despondency both on my own part and that of many of 
my comrades, yet I did not at heart regret that I had 
remained to cheer the departure of Hoffman from this 
world, as he and myself had become most intimate and 
dear friends. I know that I did by him as I would have 
wished to be done by, "and no episode of my prison life 
affords me more true pleasure than the kind attention 
which during the last few days of his earthly career I 
was able to show to Hoffman. He died on the third day 
after I had noticed the change in him, after suffering 
greatly, but I honestly believe glad to die. He had 
never received proper care since he was wounded in our 
attempted escape at Belle Island, and the sufferings and 
hardships which he subsequently underwent, slowly 
but surely undermined his constitution, and brought to 
a fatal termination an injury which with the least care 
and opportunity for healing, would have been slight, 
the natural and ordinary result of Rebel brutality. 
Gangrene set in after his wound had run for some time, 
and large sores broke out all over his body. He was 
somewhat affected with the scurvy also, and was so 
reduced by starvation that he was but a collection of 
skin and bones, so that, when dead, he presented a 
most horrib/Je appearance. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. ISl 

Thus perished in his prime one who, under happier 
circumstances and influences, would undoubtedly have 
lived an ornament to society, a man of business integrity 
and honor, and one who would have been dearly loved 
and cherished among a large circle of friends. Some 
time previous to his death the thought of dying seemed 
almost intolerable to him, as he knew that he was then 
just in the blossom of youth, and that had he not fallen 
into the hands of the Eebels, he would have been des- 
tined to a useful and honorable life. But so great were 
his sufferings, and so utter became his loneliness as 
death approached, that at last, as I stated before, he 
was glad to quit this scene of anxiety and misery and 
go home to that God in whose bosom he was certain to 
find rest and peace. 

His death called to my mind the beautiful words of 
Washington Irving : 

"There is a remembrance of the dead to which we 
turn even from the charms of the living : Oh, the grave ! 
the grave ! it' buries every terror ; covers every defect ; 
extinguishes every resentment." 



132 BOXJTHEEN PRISONS ; 



CHAPTEK XIV. 

BURYING THE DEAD 

An Attack of the Scurvy. — Hideous modes of Interment. — Terrible 
violence of Wirtz. — The heroic conduct of a Catholic Priest. 
I feel 

Of this dull sickness at my heart afraid. 

wmu 

At this time, to add to all my other troubles, I was 
attacked by the scurvy. Previously I had succeeded in 
avoiding it, although many of our men had been sick 
with it, and now, when it came, it was the more unex- 
pected and unwelcome. It first appeared in my mouth, 
and before I could obtain a remedy, or any vegetables 
with which to cure it, I thought I was destined to lose 
all my teeth. Indeed, had it not been for the fact that I 
had stiU some money left, I should certainly have died. 
By the use of this, however, I obtained a few Irish pota 
toes, which are a sure cure for the scurvy, and in a few 
days I experienced a marked change, and in a week was 
entirely well. 

There still seemed to be no talk about exchange, and 
it began generally to be believed that there would be 
none until the war closed by declaring for victory on one 
side or the other. It now began, however, to be pretty; 
certain that at no distant day victory would be pro^ 
claimed for the Union army, aud we consequently 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 133 

waited tlie progress of events with more hope than at 
any time hitherto. Had the South obtained its inde- 
pendence, indeed, I am not certain that any single pris- 
oner would ever have seen his home again. Such was 
their barbarity that the reduction to slavery of all the 
prisoners in their hands would not have been a measure 
at all unlikely in their madness and triumph. 

During the months of July and August the Rebels 
experienced no little trouble in obtaining enough well 
prisoners to bury the dead properly, and as they under- 
stood that office, this duty was always devolved on pris- 
oners, as the work was intensely painful and laborious 
under the hot Southern sun, and many a Union soldier 
lost his life in it. The Rebels would not allow negroes 
to be detailed for that purpose, as they could use them 
to better advantage in other ways, and even if they lost 
a hundred or two prisoners, it was only so many takeai 
away from their side in the event of an exchange. This 
last had now grown so doubtful that it was hardly worth 
regulating their future course by it, and no doubt Wirtz, 
and others still higher in station, thought that all they 
could get out of the prisoners was j list so much gained, 
even though it cost the lives of most of them, especially 
now when they began to be so hard pressed for men at 
the front, that they actually put negroes into the trenches, 
and in rare instances went so far as to arm them with 
muskets. 

One warm morning, as I was standing by the prison 
gate, wearily lounging away the time, there being no 
other resource for passing it just then, Captain Wirtz 
approached and accosted me, asking if I would not like 
to come outside on parole of honor and dig graves, as 
that would be a material change fi-om the dreary monot- 



134 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

ony of my life in camp. Seeing no chance of immediate 
escape, I agreed to liis proposition, to hold good for a 
time, but at the same time I told him I was not very 
strong, and I feared I could not sustain the labor and 
hardship of a grave digger, for any great period, though 
I would do my best as long as my strength sustained 
me. He said I need do only what my present strength 
allowed, and I thereupon agreed to commence work 
next morning. 

It was new work for me, and under that almost trop- 
ical sun, so hard, that I many times thought during that 
day, that I should break down completely, and not be 
able to hold out for even the first day what I had under- 
taken; but working along moderately, thus getting light 
exercise and breathing in the purer air to be found out- 
side the camp, and enjoying much more substantial fare 
than I had for a long time been accustomed to, I gradu- 
ally regained my strength, and soon felt more like my 
old self than at any time during the later period of my 
imprisonment. There were about forty of us at this 
work of digging graves, and we often were compelled to 
toil until ten or eleven o'clock at night, in order to be 
able to bury all the dead who would be brought from 
the dead house in the coming morning. Occasionally 
we buried in one morning not less than two hundred 
men, but these were exceptional cases, and the average 
number of burials was about sixty per day, out of a 
population probably not exceeding twenty thousand at 
this time. 

Our mode of digging the graves was very simple and 
is easily explained. We dug large trenches, about four 
feet deep and six feet wide, long enough to contain 
about two hundred men, and in one instance we buried 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 135 

in one trench four hundred men. After laying the 
bodies in these trenches, without any coffins, as close 
together as we could pack them, we covered them up 
with dirt, and put at the head of each man a stake with 
a number on it. 

To such a condition, however, had many of the Union 
prisoners been reduced by ill feeding, lack of clothing, 
illness and general neglect of person, that when they died 
their bodies were actually putrefying when they were 
conveyed to the dead house, and when brought out 
twelve or twenty-four hours afterward to be buried, they 
were such masses of utter corruption, already attacked 
by maggots and all kinds of unclean things, that they 
were unfit for any man to handle, and could only be 
placed in the trenches by the use of pitchforks with 
which two men would lay hold of a body, dump it into 
the trench, precisely as one would throw a fork full of 
manure into a hole on a field of a farm, then throw the 
other bodies in in a similar way, and quickly shovel 
dirt in upon all, getting them out of sight and smell as 
rapidly as possible. While engaged in this very unplea- 
sant though charitable duty of burying the dead, it often 
recalled to my memory the following beautiful and 
truthful lines : 

Yet tell me, Irighted senses ! what is death ? 

Blood only stopp'd, and interrupted breath; 

The utmost limit of a narrow span, 

And end of motion, which with life began. 

As smoke that rises from the kindling fires, 

Is seen this moment, and the next expires ; 

As empty clouds by rising winds are tost, 

Their fleeting forms scarce sooner found than lost, 

So vanishes our state, so pass our days ; 



136 SOUTHERN PKISONS ; 

So life but opens now, and now decays ; 
The cradle and the tomb, alas ! so nigh, 
To live is scarce distinguish'd from to die. 

Priar'a Solomon. 

As a natural consequence, the prisoners with me 
became greatly disgusted with this business within a 
few days after the bodies commenced to be brought to 
us in this condition, caused by the intense heat which 
characterized tlie month of August, 1864, and we peti- 
tioned that we might be relieved from the task, and the 
negroes might be set about it, as they usually did not 
seem much to mind being engaged in work of this sort, 
as it was not usually very hard, and did not compel 
them to labor very rapidly, both of which circumstances 
partially suited the cases of most of the negro laborers 
whom I met at the South. 

This proposition, however, did not appear to suit the 
commander of the camp. He declared loudly and pro- 
fanely that he would not waste the labor of the negroes 
upon any such unworthy cause, when they could as 
well be raising corn and hogs for the army , that tli3 
surviving prisoners were just the instruments for bury- 
ing our dead comrades, and when we persisted in our 
refusal to place the bodies in the graves, and hinted that 
if too hardly pressed we should be driven to attempt 
our escape, he placed guards around us with orders 
to kill the first "God damned Yankee" that made an 
attempt to get away. He further swore that if we did 
not do the work and inter the dead properly he would 
with his own men pile up the dead bodies above the 
surface until they fell over upon us, (whom he would 
till keep at our posts,) a mass of rotten, decaying 
humanity. It was evident the man AVirtz was daily 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEEN-CE. 137 

growing more bitter, morose and dangerous. His being 
continually retained at Andersonville in this capacity, 
the failure to promote him, as he thought his arduous 
and valuable services demanded, and incessant pota- 
tions of fiery Southern corn whisky, all tended to make 
him sullen, liable to fierce bursts of passion and likel}' 
to explode into sudden atrocity when least expected 
He had for some time been regarded with increased 
apprehension by the prisoners, and we finally came to 
the conclusion that our more prudent course was to go 
to work and bury the dead bodies in preference to being 
shot or perhaps being buried alive by Wirtz. Accord- 
ingly we resumed our labors, unwelcome and unplea- 
sant as they were. 

The horrors and monotonous misery of the prison at 
Andersonville were mitigated in some slight measure — so 
slight that its blessings never reached most of the pris- 
oners — ^by the constancy, the piety and heroic courage of 
a Roman Catholic priest, whose name I failed to learn, 
but which is enrolled before the Creator in letters of 
living light ; this man visited the prison daily and min- 
istered to the wants of its wretched occupants, both spir- 
itual and physical. To the sick and dying he adminis- 
tered the sacraments of the Church, and comforted their 
dying hours by reminding them of the heavenly love of 
Christ, and the glories and joys that awaited the brave 
and Christian in the world of bliss after the bonds of 
this, which had given as their part so much misery, had 
been burst. When he saw men sick and helpless, lying 
in the horrid swamp, he carried them on his back on to 
the high ground, and ministered as fully as he could 
with the scanty means at his command to their suffer- 
ings and necessities. Among such a host, so many 

IS 



138 SOUTHERN PRiBONS ; 

thoTisands, what could be expected that one man could 
do ? Yet he effected much. Many a dying man's soul 
agony he assuaged. Many sick men he pointed to 
Christ, and the true way of life, before they died. Many 
soldiers, enfeebled and almost within the grasp of death, 
he rescued from the chill embraces of the king of terrors, 
and they now live to bless with every memory of Ander- 
sonville, the father who snatched them from death and 
the grave. Had numbers of these heroic clergymen been 
permitted to visit Andersonville, much of the misery 
there might have been mitigated, if not relieved. But 
the Confederate Grovernment cared neither for the bodies 
nor souls of their unfortunate victims, and hardly 
showed more toleration to ministers of Christ, than to 
national officers sent to inspect the condition of the pris- 
oners. Let, however, the glory of true, heroic Christian 
charity be accorded to this nameless Catholic priest. 

Says Albert D. Richardson, in his work entitled, 
"The Field, the Dungeon, and the Escape:" "In all 
Southern prisons I was forced to admire the fidelity 
with which the Roman Church looks after its members' 
Priests frequently visited all places of confinement to 
inquire for Catholics, and minister both to their spir- 
itual and bodily needs." 



OE, JOSIE. THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 13& 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE MONSTER WIRTZ. 

His Early life and Character. — The Treatment of Prisoners of War 
by the Rebels contrasted with the Usages of Civilized Nations, by 
Augustus Choate Hamlin. — Regulations of the United States. — Ap- 
peara.ics of Andersonville. — Brutal Order of Brig.-Gen. John H. 
Winder. 

Thou shalt behold him stretch'd in all the agonies 
Of a tormenting and shameful death ! 
His bleeding bowels and his broken limbs 
Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain. 

Oiway's Venice Preserced. 

"There are times in the history of men," writes 
Augustus Choate Hamlin, "when human invectives are 
without force. There are deeds of which men are no 
judges, and which mount, without appeal, direct to the 
tribunal of God." The dispositions of man depend 
greatly upon the associations of his early life. The 
youthful and pliant organization is easily impressed by 
the natural scenes of birthplace and childhood, and the 
effect of the views of the savage mountain gorges, the 
dark and gloomy forests ; or the distant landscape 
smiling in the rays of the sun, and decorated with the 
most beautiful works of human industry, are felt here- 
after in the labors and conceptions of manhc^d. 

Men sometimes are but the living reflections of the 
savage scenes among which they have been raised, and 



140 SOUTHEEIT PRisojsrs ; 

seldom do we see them arise from tliat immense and 
world-wide mass of fallen humanity to cherish anew, to 
maintain the noble principles of this earthly life, and 
lead the willing world to the true worship of the Creator. 

Wirtz was born among the glorious mountains of 
Switzerland, where the lofty and dazzling peaks of eter- 
nal snow, pointing upwards into the clear vault of hea- 
ven, impress the human mind with sublimity, or wher^ 
the deeper glens sadden the heart and blast the aspiring 
imagination. 

It seems that the natural impressions made upon this 
man in this beautiful country were of an earthly and 
sordid character, for he has always exhibited, in his 
wanderings in pursuit of fortune, the reckless and de- 
graded soul of a mercenary. 

Seeking gain in the new world, he turned up in the 
Slave States when the revolt was determined upon, and, 
without reluctance, offered his services to the frantic 
and savage horde. Although a Swiss and republican 
by birth and inheritance, he does not hesitate between 
liberty and despotism. The principles of political dog- 
mas do not agitate him ; it is the desire for money, and 
an insatiate desire for blood, blasting the natural heart 
with cruel and remorseless passions, that lead him 
blindly and swiftly to ruin. The fatal plunge taken, 
and there was no return. 

The compunctions of humanity passed over his seared 
and unfeeling conscience with no more effect than when 
the waves surge over the huge rocks which form the bed 
of the deepest ocean. 

He was selected for the fatal position by the brutal 
"Winder, who first observed him among the unfortunate 
prisoners of the first disastrous battle of the Republic 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 141 

What should recommend him, then, to the notice of this 
inhuman officer can be easily conjectured by the sur- 
vivors of the prisons of that period. Cruelty then was 
pastime, it afterwards became a law. It was then that 
some of the chivalry, after the manner of the tribes of 
Abyssinia and Eastern Africa, made glorious trophies 
of the skulls and the bones of their antagonists who had 
fallen in battle. 

This man appeared at times kind and humane, and 
his voice had the accents of benevolence ; but when 
excited, natural sentiments recoiled with horror at the 
depth and extent of his imprecations. This assumed 
gentleness of disposition is of but little weight among 
the examples of history. 

"I have often said," writes Montaigne, "that cow- 
ardice is the mother of cruelty, and by experience have 
observed that the spite and asperity of malicious and 
inhuman courage are accompanied with the mantle o^ 
feminine softness." 

?he ensanguined Sylla wept over the recital of tbp 
miseries he himself had caused. 

That daily murderer, the tyrant of Pheres, forbade 
:he play of tragedy, lest the citizens should weep over 
the misfortunes of Hecuba and Andromache. 

The beautiful eyes of the Roman maidens glistened 
with tears at the imaginary sufferings of the inanimate 
marbles of Niobe and Laocoon, yet how remorselessly 
they gave the signal of death to the defeated gladiator 
on the arena of the Colosseum ! 

The warm, generous, natural impulses of the heart 
soon become affected, impaired, and even reversed by 
brutal associations. 

Circumstances develop greatly the characters of mec, 



142 SOUTHEEN PRisoisrs ; 

and they sometimes rise to true greatness, or sink into 
baseness, according to the law of effect, of contact, and 
example. 

Heroism in the damp and noxious prisons, where the 
noble qualities of the mind are shaken and swayed by 
the sufferings of the body, is far different from that 
which is displayed upon the battle-field, amid the glit- 
tering and inspiring pomp of war. 

The men at Thermopylae fought in the shadows of 
the soul-inspiring mountains, and beheld, through the 
charm of distance, their homes and the beautiful valleys 
they had sworn to defend. The Decii saw the shining 
swords of their enemies when they rushed into battle, 
and the dying nobly, and the glory, made all fear of 
death but of little weight. 

Here, instead of bright and glorious banners, and the 
flash of arms, the lon^ array of men eager for the con- 
test, and the songs, the shouts of defiance, there was a 
vast ditch, crowded with living beings of scarce the 
human form, haggard and unnatural in appearance — a 
sea of red and fetid mud, trampled and defiled by the 
immense throng. 

Instead of the white tents and canopies of military 
encampments, there were the ragged blankets vainly 
stretched over upright sticks ; there were the holes in 
the earth, the burrows in the sand, like the villages of 
the rats of the great prairies of the West. They were 
more like the dens of the beast- o ' the desert than habi- 
tations for human beings. 

No Christian hand ever penetrated to their depths to 
aid the sick and suffering inmates, to nourish the hun- 
gry and console the dying, save one Romish priest ; and 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 143 

in spite of the horrors and dangers of the place, he was 
faithful to his trust. 

Noble man ! you have proved by these acts that 
humanity is not a mere matter of gain and self-aggran- 
dizement. 

It seemed as though vengeance was prolonged beyond 
death itself. 

There is no battle-field on the face of the globe, known 
to the antiquary, where so many soldiers are interred in 
one group as are gathered together in the broad trenches 
of this neglected field among the pine forests of Georgia. 
What a gathering is this ; what a monument of the 
incarnation of political lust, of the reckless desperation, 
the implacpobility of the depraved human heart, when 
resolved upon cruelty. 

The world does not offfer, among all of her extant 
memorials, a more terrible, a more impressive comment 
upon the ambition, the power, the glory of mankind. 

That fatal stockade at Andersonville, with the silent 
mound of earth which contains its harvest of death, is a 
fair and just exponent of the bigoted and selfish policy 
that struck down the Flag of the Republic ; of that 
cruel and unearthly spirit which has despised all the 
" attachments with which God has formed the chain of 
human sympathies," and, which, without a tear of re- 
morse, has strewn the Atlantic Ocean with a broad path- 
way of human bones. 

Liberty has but one inscription to offer, and that is 
the noble lines which were traced on the dungeon wall 
in the blood of the noblest and purest of the Girondins : 
'"'' Potius mori quam foedarV — Death rather than dis- 
honor. 

What have the wretches to offer in atonement for 



144 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; 

these outrages upon nature, these violations of the spirit 
and majesty of law, from which they now claim protec- 
tion? 

Will the blood of these living monsters expiate the 
martyrdom of the host of dead heroes ? No ! 

Will it give ease or bring congratulation to the broken 
and aching hearts who yet revere the memory of the 
eighty-five thousand victims ? Never ! 

The divine spirit of liberty would protest against the 
defilement of her sacred alters with the foul blood of 
such filthy and depraved sacrifices. 

No ; let the gates of the prison open, and these men 
stand forth to the full gaze of ofiended mankind, assas- 
sins and murderers as they are. 

History weighs the social institutions of men in the 
scale of humanity. Time, slowly but surely, accumu- 
lates the evidence which relates to their materials. It 
calmly, but firmly unveils the statues which men erect 
as their principles, and with "that retributive justice 
which God has implanted in our very acts, as a con- 
science more sacred than the fatalism of the ancients," 
lays bear the secret springs of action which have prompt- 
ed the deeds of heroism or baseness, of virtue or crime. 
Impartial history will give to the memory of these men 
a place among the records of useless murder. 

The law of parole was all-sufficient to prevent their 
return to service, as their absence from the fields of cam- 
paign would have been of no material weight with the 
prolific North, 

But the intent of their captors was cruelty ; and they 
strove te reduce the numbers, and to intimidate the cour- 
age of the Federal soldiers, by acts of savage barbarity, 
as the relentless Tartar hoped to terrify the Hindoos into 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORET^^CE. 14o 

the profession of Mohammedanism by sacrificing multi- 
tudes, and deluging whole countries in blood. 

To deny the criminality is, as Lamartine says of the 
massacres of September, " to belie the right of feeling of 
the human race. It is to deny nature, which is the mo- 
rality of instinct. There is nothing in mankind greater 
than humanity. It is not more permissible for a govern- 
ment than for a man to commit murder. If a drop of 
blood stains the hand of a murderer, oceans of gore do 
not make innocent the Dantons. The magnitude of the 
crime does not transform it into virtue. Pyramids of 
dead bodies rise high, it is true, but not so high as the 
execration of mankind." 

Revolutions almost always spring from the noble and 
generous enthusiasm of j^outh ; but seditions arise from 
the vulgar and ignoble crowd, or from the outcast few, 
who would, for wealth, sacrifice all that honor and nature 
hold dear ; or for the meaner gratifications of self-aggran- 
dizement, would crumble into dust, and scatter to the 
winds of the earth, the noblest institutions and laws of 
mankind. Who will say that this resort to arms was 
an insurrection of justice in favor of the week, or that it 
was a revolt of nature against tyranny ? 

The agitations of revolutions stir up the innermost 
natures of men, and from the revelations out of the depths 
appear the extreme qualities of the soul, elevated or de- 
based, according to the inspirations from heaven or the 
influence of a vile cause. 

What rays of intellectual light, what flashes of gen- 
uine eloquence, burst forth during the tempestuous times 
of this period to illumine their progress or define the 
glory of their future ? When the minds and imagina- 
tions of men are moved in civil war, they betray, in spite 
19 



146 SOTJTHERN PRISONS ; 

of themselves, the nobility or meanness of their cans . 
Even the ignorant, says Qnintilian, when moved by thf^ 
violent passions, do not seek for what they are to saj 
It is the soul alone that renders them eloquent. Onl>- 
the hoarse clamors for revenge, or the holloAV laugh 
against the remonstrance of humanity, do we hear from 
their tribunals and halls of legislation. Fatuity pos- 
sessed their minds, and rather than not succeed in their 
designs, the leaders would have preferred a dreary soli- 
tude to the best interests of humanity, or, like Erostra- 
tus, they would have rather burned down the temple of 
liberty itself 

" Pejus deteriusque tyrannide sive injusto iraperio, bellum civile." 

Civil liberty is again triumphant, but at wliat a sacri- 
fice of human life ! What a deluge of blood has been 
poured over nature' s fields, where the contending armies 
have struggled together ! A half a million of lives have 
been yielded up in this the nation' s sacrifice. 

" The tree of Libert3^," said Barere, "is best watered 
with the blood of tyrants;" but how few among this 
immense host of victims were the originators of the sedi- 
tion ! The merciless schemers of bloody and cruel wars 
rarely expose their precious lives to the chances of com- 
bat. 

During the existence of the slave system, and the long 
period of its progress, what has it ^^roduced to enrich the 
heritage of the human mind ? Where are the holy and 
pure traditions, the bright recollections ? 

Neither wisdom nor philosophy has appeared, nor 
those arts which serve to form the "happy genius of 
nations." There are countries where the march of ideas 
is accelerated only by the force of selfish passions ; and 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORElSrCE. 147 

philanthropy, that true index of civilization, only appears 
when it is required by mercantilism or political ambition. 
The aims and influences of commercial and political life 
• can debase and destroy the noblest impulses. " It is a 
grand and beautiful spectacle," exclaims the eloquent 
Rousseau, "to see man issue forth out of nothingness, 
as it were, by his own proper efforts, to dissipate, by the 
light of his reason, the shadows in which nature had 
enveloped him, to elevate himself above himself, to glance 
with his spirit even into the cek'stial regions, to pass, 
with the stride of a giant, even as the sun, through the 
vast expanse of the universe, and what is still greater 
and more diflicul t, to enter one' s self, and study there 
man, and to understand his nature, his duties, and his 
end.': 

Civilization claims to introduce the elements of peace, 
happiness, and prosperity into the structure of society, 
and to transform the sword and the spear into the harm- 
less implements of husbandry ; yet with a swifter pace 
the engines of war increase, man thirsts as fiercely for 
the blood of his fellow-man, and the dormant sjoiiit of 
destruction is as ready to illume the torch, as in the reck- 
less times of past history. Even in this enlightened age 
we are constantly reminded of the truth and force of the 
remark of Hannibal : "No great state can long remain 
at rest. If it has no enemies abroad, it finds them at 
home ; as overgrown bodies seem safe from external 
injuries, but suffer grievious inconveniences from their 
own strength." 

The motives of self-aggrandizement by force of arms 
appear to be innate in human nature. We see men 
maintaining monstrous ideas. We see great armies sin- 
gularly swayed by single minds, in defiance of truth 



148 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

and reason. Tlie soldiers of Catiline fought to the last 
gasp, and perished to a man, embracing the eagle of 
Marius— " Marius, who sprang from the dust the expir- 
ing Gracchi flung towards heaven," and who first dared 
attack the aristocratic nobility, and defend the down- 
trodden rights of the oppressed plebeian. There are 
mysterious laws, which seem to regulate the expansion 
and the decay of the human families. There are unseen 
forces which now and then impel vicious men to their 
own distruction. 

We see passionate men defending palpable errors 
with fanaticism and metaphysical temerity, as though 
they were divine dogmas Thus Slavery would legalize 
frightful tyranny, and declare permanent proscriptions, 
with the same ease that it consigned thousands to 
starvation. 'If liberty,' says the author of the 'Essai 
sur le Despotisme,' 'is the first of resorts for man, 
Slavery must alter all the sentiments, blunt all the sen- 
sations, and denaturalize them ; stifle all talent, blend 
all shades, corrupt all the orders of state, and scatter 
discord, the germ of anarchy and revolutions. Man is 
only wicked when a superstitious institution or a tyran- 
nical government gives the example of ferocity, and 
supplies him with fear for motive and cupidity for pas- 
sion. But it is necessary to distinguish with men the 
character acquired from natural inclination : we are, of 
all beings, the most susceptible of modifications, and 
above all, of extreme passions. An enslaved people 
are always vile : they can be wicked and cruel, because 
they are irritable, gloom}^ and ignorant ; and when, 
although instruction will not be the only rampart of 
liberty against tyranny, it will always be the first safe- 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 149 

guard of man against man ; but the slave is a mutilated 
man.' 

Every writer will admit this whose pen is not enslaved 
by fear, or rendered venal by interest. 

The right of making prisoners of war, and depriving 
them of their liberty, and of the power and opportunity 
of farther resistance, is undoubted, for it is founded on 
the principles of security and self-defence. But when 
the soldier has laid down his arms, and submitted to the 
will of the conqueror, the right of taking his life ceases, 
unless he should forfeit the right himself by some new 
crime ; and the savage errors of antiquity, in putting 
prisoners to death, have long been renounced by civil- 
ized nations. 

Among the European states prisoners of war are sel- 
dom ill-treated ; and when the number of prisoners is 
so great as not to be fed, or kept with safety, it has been 
the custom to parole them, either for a certain length of 
time, or for the war. All authorities agree that they 
cannot be made slaves, although under certain circum- 
stances they may be set at labor on the public fortifica- 
tions and works. 

Prisoners of war are retained to prevent their return- 
ing to the field of conflict, and there are times when they 
may be detained and refused all ransom, when, for m 
stance, it is obvious that the parole will not be regarded 
by the opposing commanders, and when their exchange 
would throw a preponderance of weight into the ranks 
of the antagonist. It would have been very dangerous 
for the Czar Peter the Great to have exchanged his Swe- 
dish prisoners for an equal number of unequal Russians ; 
but whilst retained they were treated with kindness. 

The rebel policy and system towards the Federal 



150 80UTHEEN PEisoiirs ; 

prisoners, along the entire line, witliont exception, from 
Virginia to Texas, was one of stupendous atrocity. It 
was one of the most inhuman and monstrous that hate 
and tyrannj^ ever invented. It was no less derogatory 
to human character than defiant to the principles of 
Christianity ; hut Christianity was unknown there. The 
gods of worship were the deities of the dark ages, and 
the fancied garlands of flowers that decorated their stat- 
ues were nothing more than wreaths of C3'prus leaves. 
This stockade was the epitome and concentration of all 
earthly misery, to which the Bastile and the Inquisition 
ofier but feeble comparisons, as prototypes, as models 
as ideas, for the destruction of human life. 

In this we recognize the perversion of the natural 
sentiments after two centuries of crime, the defiance of 
all honorable law, 'the barbarism of slavery.' 

What can we, in extenuation, ascribe to recklessness, 
what to ignorance ? ' There is,' says the eloquent Eous- 
seau, ' a brutal and ferocious ignorance, which springs 
from a bad heart and a false sprit. A criminal igno- 
rance, which extends itself even to the duties of human- 
ity; which multiplies vices, which degrades reason, 
debases the soul, and renders man like the beasts.' 

These men destroyed, the strength, the lives of thou- 
sands, by stealth}^ means, and excused their consciences 
by the reflections of perverted nature : as Timour said 
to his victims, 'It is you who assassinate your own 
souls ! ' 

It has been the custom, among European nati^us, lo 
treat prisoners of war liberally, and the expenses of 
aiaintaining them are paid by both sides at the close of 
ihe war. 

The British Parliament voted, in 1780, to pay forty 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 151 

thonsand pounds sterling to disinfect and improve the 
prison where the Spanish prisoners were confined, and 
where a fatal fever had declared itself. And there are 
many instances where European powers have acted 
kindly and humanely towards those who had fallen 
into their power from hazard of battle. War was de- 
clared against states, and not against the individual 
subjects of those states. 

At all times, kindness to the unfortunate, and hospi- 
tality to strangers, has always been considered as a vir- 
tue of the first rank among people whose manners are 
simple, and who, uncontaminated by vices of a false 
and frivolous civilization, exhibit the natural qualities 
of the human race. Even among the darkness of the 
middle ages kindness was compulsory, and hospitality 
enforced by statute, and whoever denied succor to mis- 
ery was liable to punishment. "Quicunque hospiti 
venienti lectum aut focum negaverit trium solidorum in 
latione mulct ■ ur." (Leg. Burgund., tit. 88, § 1.) 

The laws ov the Slavi ordained that the movables of 
\n inhospitable person should be confiscated, and his 
louse burned. 

In comparison with these humane provisions, how 
terribly contrasted are the modes of treatment as pra^ 
ticed by the Rebel authorities upon the Federal sold.crs 1 
'Let US hoist the black flag, and kill every prisoner,' 
said one of the cabinet ofiicers. ' I will sell my whea^ 
said another cabinet oflSicer, ' to my fellow-c'/izens, at 
exorbitant prices.' ' My God,' said a poor woman, 
* how can I pay such prices ! I have seven children ? 
What shall I do ?' ' I do not know, madam,' was the 
brutal answer, 'unless you eat them.' 

When such sentiments prevailed at Richmond, what 



152 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; 

could be expected in kindness by those who were looked 
apon with hatred and as worthy of death ? 

In the revolutionary times of 1776, there was no bru- 
tal treatment of prisoners of war by Americans. Wash- 
ington was extremel}' solicitous that no act of barbarity 
should stain the sanctity of the cause. In a letter of 
May 11, 1776, Washington wrote to the President of 
Congress, recommending that measures be adopted to 
secure for prisoners of war the most humane treatment ; 
and again to the Massachusetts Committee, February 6, 
1776, he wrote, recommending that captives should be 
treated with humanity and kindness. The Continental 
Congress passed a resolution iii 1776, that all taken with 
arms be treated as prisoners of war, but with humanity, 
and allowed the same rations as the troops in the service 
of the United States. 

The United States Government adopted the following 
rules in 1863 for the guidance of our armies, and pub- 
lished them in General Order, No. 100, April 24 : — 
* * * * 

11. The law of war not only disclaims all cruelty and 
bad faith concerning engagements concluded with the 
enemy during the war, but also the breaking of stipula- 
tions solemnly contracted by the belligerents in time of 
peace, and avowedly intended to remain in force in case 
of war between the contracting powers. 

It disclaims all extortions and other transactions for 
individual gain ; all acts of private revenge, or conni- 
vance at such acts. 

Offences to the contrary shall be severely punished, 
and especially so if committed by officers. 

14. Military necessity, as understood by modern civ- 
ilized nations, consists in the necessity of those measures 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE 153 

which are indispensible for securing the ends of war, and 
which are lawful according to the modern law and 
usages of war. 

15. Military necessity admits of all direct destruction 
of life or limb of armed enemies, and of other persons 
whose destruction is incidently unavoidable in the 
armed contests of the war ; it allows of the capturing 
of every armed enemy, and every enemy of importance 
to the hostile government, or of peculiar danger to the 
captor ; it allows of all destruction of property, and 
obstruction of the ways and channels of traffic, travel, 
or communication, and of all withholding of sustenance 
or means of life from the enemy ; of the appropriation 
of whatever an enemy's country affords necessary for 
the safety and subsistence of the army, and of such 
deception as does not involve the breaking of good faith, 
either positively pledged regarding agreements entered 
into during the war, or supposed by the modern law 
of war to exist. Men who take up arms against one 
another in public war do not cease on this account to 
be moral beings, responsible to one another and to God. 
16. Military necessity does not admit of cruelty, — 
that is, the infliction of suffering for the sake of suffer- 
ing or revenge, — nor of maiming or wounding, except 
in fight, nor of torture to extort confessions. It does not 
admit of the use of poison in any way, nor of the wan- 
ton devastation of a district. It admits of deception, 
but disdains acts of perfidy; and, in general, military 
necessity does not include any act of hostility which 
renders the return to peace unnecessarily difficult. 

27. The law of war can no more wholly dispense 
with retaliation than can the law of nations, of which 

it is a branch ; yet civilized nations acknowledge retal- 
20 



154 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

iation as the sternest feature of war. A reckless enemy 
often leaves to his opponents no other means of securing 
himself against the repetition of barbarous outrage. 

28. Retaliation will, therefore, never be resorted to as 
a measure of mere revenge, but only as a means of pro- 
tective retribution, and cautiously and unavoidably ; 
that is to say, retaliation shall only be resorted to after 
careful inquiry into the real occurrence and the charac- 
ter of the misdeeds that may demand retribution. 

33. It is no longer considered lawful — on the contrary 
it is held to be a serious breach of the law of war — to 
force the subjects of the enemy into the service of the 
victorious government, except the latter should proclaim 
after a fair and complete conquest of the hostile country 
or district, that it is resolved to keep the country, dis- 
trict, or place, permanently as its own, and make it a 
portion of its own country. 

49. A prisoner of war is a public enemy, armed oi 
attached to the hostile army for active aid, who has 
fallen into the hands of the captor, either fighting or 
wounded, on the field or in the hospital, by individual 
surrender or by capitulation. 

52. No belligerent has the right to declare that he 
will treat every captured man in arms, of a levy en 
masse, as a brigand or bandit. * * * 

56. A prisoner of war is subject to no punishment for 
being a public enemy, nor is any revenge wreaked upon 
him by the intentional infliction of any suffering, or dis- 
grace by cruel imprisonment, want of food, by mutila- 
tion, death, or any other barbarity. 

57. So soon as a man is armed by a sovereign gov- 
ernment, and takes the soldier's oath of fidelity, he is a 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 155 

belligerent ; his killing, wounding, or other warlike acts 
are no individual crime or offence. * * * 

67. The law of nations allows every sovereign govern- 
ment to make war upon another sovereign state, and 
therefore admits of no rules or laws different from those 
of regular warfare regarding the treatment of prisoners 
of war, although they may belong to the army of a gov- 
ernment which the captor may consider as a wanton and 
unjust assailant. 

The use of poison in any manner, be it to poison 
wells, or food, or arms, is wholly excluded from modern 
warfare. He that uses it puts himself out of the pale of 
the laws and usages of war. 

71. Whoever intentionally inflicts additional wounds 
on an enemy already wholly disabled, or kills such an 
enemy, or who orders or encourages soldiers to do so, 
shall suffer death if duly convicted, whether he belongs 
to the Army of the United States, or is an enemy cap- 
tured after having committed his misdeed. 

72. Money and other valuables on the person of a 
prisoner, such as watches or jewelry, as well as extra 
clothing, aie regarded by the American army as the 
private property of the prisoners, and the appropriation 
of such valuables or money is considered dishonorable, 
and is prohibited. 

74. A prisoner of war, being a public enemy, is the 
prisoner of the government and not of the captor. No 
ransom can be paid by a prisoner of war to his individ- 
ual captor or to any officer in command. The govern- 
ment alone releases captives, according to rules pre- 
scribed by itself. 

75. Prisoners of war are subject to confinement or 
imprisonment, such as may be deemed necessary on 



166 SOTJTHEKN PEISOIS-S; 

acconnt of safety, Ibut they are to be sulbjected to no 
other intentional suffering or indignity. The confine- 
ment and mode of treating a prisoner may be varied 
during his captivity, according to the demands of safety. 

76. Prisoners of war sliall be fed upon plain and 
wholesome food whenever practicable, and treated with 
humanity. They may be required to work for the ben- 
efit of the captor's government, according to their rank 
iind condition. 

77. A prisoner of war who escapes, may be shot or 
3therwise killed in his flight, but neither death nor any 
other punishment shall be inflicted upon him, simply 
for his attempt to escape, which the law of war does not 
consider a crime. Stricter means of security shall be 
used after an unsuccessful attempt at escape. •* * * 

109. The exchange of prisoners of war is an act of 
convenience to both belligerents. If no general cartel 
has been concluded it cannot be demanded by either of 
them. No belligerent is obliged to exchange prisoners 
of war. A cartel is voidable as soon as either party has 
violated it. 

119. Prisoners of war may be released from captivity 
by exchange, and under certain circumstances, also by 
parole. 

120. The term parole designates the pledge of indi- 
vidual good faith and honor to do, or to omit doing, cer- 
tain acts after he who gives his parole shall have been 
dismissed wholly or partially from the power of the 
captor. 

121. The pledge of the parole is always an individual 
but not a private act. 

133. No prisoner of war can be forced by the hostile 
government to parole himself, and no government is 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROr^TE OF FLORENCE. 157 

obliged to parole prisoners of war, or to parole all cap- 
tured officers, if it paroles any. As the pledging of the 
parole is an individual act, so is paroling, on the other 
hand, an act of choice on the part of the belligerent. 

From the " Detroit Advertiser and Tribune," 1869. 

During the recent official tour of a veteran officer of 
the regular army to the cemeteries of the Union dead in 
the South, he had a personal opportunity of inspecting 
the grounds occupied during the rebellion by the in- 
famous prison pen known as Andersonville, Ga. The 
stockades and sheds have been removed, and the blasted 
spot converted into a burial ground, where some fifteen 
thousand of the Union soldiers " sleep their last sleep." 
Andersonville is not even a hamlet. It is a deserted 
place, with only one or two little shanties, and was se- 
lected for the express purpose of making the brave men 
there confined as miserable as possible, and of removing 
them from all intercourse with the outside world. As 
some efforts have been made to rescue Winder, the com- 
mander of this post, from the responsibility of the 
cruelty inflicted upon these military prisoners, and espe- 
cially from the shame of giving an order for their indis- 
criminate massacre on the approach of Sherman' s army, 
.ihe gentleman in question took some pains to investigate 
the facts, and his conclusions are that the worst that 
was charged against this cruel man falls below the hor- 
rid reality. In proof of his judgment he has handed to 
us the following extract from a book published by Dr. 
Ambrose Spencer, who resided near Andersonville when 
• it was occupied by the rebel government as a prison. 
He was perfectly and personally acquainted with every 
thing that transpired there during Winder's administra- 



158 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

tion. Dr. Spencer is a son of the late John C. Spencer, 
of New York, Secretary of War, and afterwards Secre- 
tary of the Treasury, under President Tyler, and pre- 
viously in Congress and in other high positions. He has 
resided many years in the South, and is everywhere ac- 
cepted as a trustworthy and reliable man. This testi- 
mony is borne to his character by all our friends in 
Georgia, including officers of the army, and Union men 
generally. The horrible order of Winder, incorporated 
in this published statement of Dr. Spencer, has been 
duly examined and compared with the original, thus 
placing its authenticity beyond all cavil : 

To complete his precautions for the safe-keeping of 
his charge, or to quell any disposition to revolt, he had 
placed, through Gen. Winder' s orders, a battery of six 
pieces of artillery, which commanded the whole interior 
of the prison, and which was kept charged with grape 
and canister, ready for instant service. The orders to 
the officers in command were to " sweep the stockade " 
if there was any appearance of mutiny, or any unusual 
crowding together of its inmates. 

The artillerists were on duty at night as well as in the 
day, and were relieved at their guns as regularly as were 
the customary sentinels on guard. The position of the 
battery upon a hill, and overlooking the prison, while it 
commanded its whole interior, was such that, if the 
order had ever been given to fire, its hurling grape would 
have borne death and desolation to many thousands. 

When Gen. Kilpatrick, of the Union army, was ex- 
pected to advance in his raid as far as Anderson ville, the 
following order was issued : 



OS, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 159 

OEDERS NO. 13. 

Headquarters, 
Confederate States Military Prison, 
Andersonville, July 27, 1864. 

The officer on duty and in charge of the battery of "Florida 
Artillery " at the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy have 
approached within seven miles of this place, open fire upon the stock- 
ade wiih buckshot, without reference to the situation beyond these 
lines of defense. 

It is better that the last Federal be exterminated than be permitted 
to burn and pillage the property of loyal citizens, as they will do if 
allowed to make their escape from prison. 

By order of Jolin H. Winder, Brigadier General. 

W. S. WINDER, 
Assistant Adjutant General. 



160 SOUTHEBN PKISO]S"«: 



CHAPTER XYI. 

THE PRISONERS' MEMORIAL. 
Their Address from Andersonville to the President. — A Pathetic and 

Truthful Appeal. 

Let laurels, drenched in pure Parnassian dews. 

Reward his memory, dear to every muse. 

Who with a courage of unshaken root, 

In honor's field advancing his firm foot. 

Plants it upon the line that justice draws, 

And will prevail or perish in the cause. 

Cowper. 

In August, 1864, a memorial was sent to the President 
of the United States, by the prisoners still in confine- 
ment at Andersonville, representing theu' sufferings, and 
appealing for succor. Deeming it evidence of the utm 3st 
importance, I quote the memorial in full as publish >d 
by the U. S. Sanitary Commission. 

The Memorial or the Uisrioiir Prisoners Confiisted 
AT Andersonville, Gta., to the President of 
THE United States. 

Confederate States Prison, 

Charleston, S. C, August, 1864. 

To the President of the United States : 

The condition of the enlisted men belonging to the 
Union armies, now prisoners to the Confederate Rebel 
forces, is such that it becomes our duty, and the duty of 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREIS'CE. 161 

every commissioned officer, to make known the facts in 
the case to the Government of the United States, and to 
to use every honorable effort to secure a general exchange 
of prisoners, thereby relieving thousands of our com- 
rades from the horror now surrounding them. 

For some time past there has been a concentration of 
prisoners from all parts of the Rebel territory to the 
State of Georgia — the commissioned officers being con- 
fined at Macon, and the enlisted men at Andersonville. 

Recent movements of the Union armies under Gen- 
eral Sherman have compelled the removal of prisoners 
to other pouits, and it is now understood that they will 
be removed to Savannah, Georgia, and Columbus and 
Charleston, South Carolina. But no change of this kind 
holds out any prospect of relief to our poor men. In- 
deed, as the localities selected are far more unhealthy, 
there must be an increase rather than a diminution of 
suffering. Colonel Hill, Provost Marshal General, Con- 
federate States Army, at Atlanta, stated to one of the 
officers that there were thirty-five thousand prisoners at 
Andersonville, and by all accounts from the United 
States soldiers who have been confined there, the num- 
ber is not overstated by him. These thirty-five thousand 
prisoners are confined in a field of some eighteen acres, 
inclosed by a stockade of unhewn logs, heavily guarded. 
About one-third have various kinds of indifferent shel- 
ter ; but upwards of thirty thousand are wholly without 
shelter, or even shade of any kind, and are exposed to 
the storms and rains, which are of almost daily occur- 
rence ; the cold dews of the night, and the more terrible 
effects of the sun striking with almost tropical fierceness 
upon their unprotected heads. This mass of men jostle 

and crowd each other up and down the limits of their 
21 



162 SOFTHERN PRISONS ; 

inclosure, in storms or sun, and others lie down upon 
the pitiless earth at night, with no other covering than 
the clothing upon their backs, and few, if any of them, 
have even a blanket. 

Upon entering the prison every man is deliberately 
stripped of money and other property, and as no cloth 
ing or blankets are ever supplied to their prisoners by 
the Rebel authorities, the condition of the apparel of the 
soldiers, just from an active campaign, can be easily 
imagined. Thousands are without pants or coats, and 
hundreds without even a pair of drawers to cover their 
nakedness. 

To these men, as indeed to all prisoners, there is 
issued three-quarters of a pound of bread or meal, and 
one-eighth of a pound of meat per day. This is the 
entire ration, and upon it the prisoner must live or die. 
The meal is often unsifted and sour, and the meat such 
as in the North is consigned to the soapmaker. Such 
are the rations upon which Union soldiers are fed by the 
Rebel authorities, and by which they are barely holding 
on to life. But to starvation and exposure to sun and 
storm, add the sickness which prevails to a most alarm- 
ing and terrible extent. On an average, one hundred 
die daily. It is impossible that any Union soldier 
should know all the facts pertaining to this terrible mor- 
tality, as they are not paraded by the rebel authorities. 

Such a statement as the following, made by , 

speaks eloquent testimony. Said he : " Of twelve of us 
who were captured, eight died, two are in the hospital, 
and I never expect to see them again. There are but 
two of us left." In 1862, at Montgomery, Alabama, 
under far more favorable circumstances, the prisoners 
being protected by sheds, from one hundred and fifty to 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE, 163 

two hundred were sick from diarrlioea and chills, out or 
seven hundred. 

The same per centage would give seven thousand sick 
at Anderson ville. It needs no comment, no efforts at 
word painting, to make such a picture stanl out noldl} 
in most horrible colors. 

Nor is this all. Among the ill-fated of the many who 
have suffered amputation in consequence of injuries 
received before capture, sent from Rebel hospitals beiore 
their wounds were healed, these are eloquent witnesses 
of the barbarities of which they are victims. If to the se 
facts is added this, that nothing more demoralizes so - 
diers, and develops the evil passions of man than star 
vation, the terrible condition of Union prisoners at 
Andersonville can be readily imagined. They are fast 
losing hope, and becoming utterly reckless of life. 
Numbers, crazed by their sufferings, wander about in a 
state of idiocy ; others deliberately cross the ' ' dead 
line," and are remorselessly shot down 

In behalf of these men we most earnestly appeal t) 
the President of the United States. Few of them have 
been captured except in the front of battle, in the deadly 
encounter, and only when overpowered by numbers. 
They constitute as gallant a portion of our armies as 
carry our banners any where. If released, they would 
soon return to again do vigorous battle for our cause. 
We are told that the only obstacle in the way of ex- 
change is the status of enlisted negroes captured from 
our armies, the United States claiming that the carte] 
covers all who serve under its flag, and the Confederate 
States refusing to consider the colored soldiers, hereto- 
fore slaves, as prisoners of war. We beg leave to sug 
gest some facts bearing upon the question of exchange, 



164 SOUTHEEN PKISO]?fS ; 

whicli we would urge upon this consideration. Is it not 
consistent with the national honor, without waiving the 
claim that the negro soldiers shall be treated as prisoners 
of war, to effect an exchange of the white soldiers ? The 
two classes are treated differently by the enemy. The 
whites are confined in such prisons as Libby and Ander- 
sonville, starved and treated with a barbarism unknown 
to civilized nations. The blacks, on the contrary, are 
seldom imprisoned. They are distributed among the 
citizens, or employed on government works. Under 
these circumstances they receive enough to eat, and are 
worked no harder than they have been accustomed to 
be. They are neither starved or killed off by the pesti- 
lence in the dungeons of Richmond and Charleston. 
It is true they are again made slaves ; but their slavery 
is freedom and happiness compared with the cruel exis- 
tence imposed upon our gallant men. They are not 
bereft of hope, as are the white soldiers, dying by piece- 
meal. Their chances of escape are tenfold greater than 
those of the white soldiers, and their condition, in all 
its lights, is tolerable in comparison with that of the pri- 
soners of war now languishing in the dens and pens of 
Secession. 

While, therefore, believing the claims of our Govern- 
ment in matters of exchange, to be just, we are pro- 
foundly impressed with the conviction that the circum- 
stances of the two classes of soldiers are so widely dif- 
ferent that the Government can honorably consent to an 
exchange, waiving for a time the established principle 
justly claimed to be applicable in the case. Let thirty- 
five thousand suffering, starving, and dying enlisted men 
aid this appeal. By prompt and decided action in their 
behalf, thirty -five thousand heroes wUl be made happy. 



OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 165 

For the eighteen liiindred commissioned officers now pri- 
soners, we urge nothing. Although deskous of returning 
to our duty, we can bear imprisonment with more forti- 
tude if the enlisted men, whose sufferings we know to 
be intolerable, were restored to liberty and life. 



1.06 SOUTHEEB PBISOlfSJ 



CHAPTER XYTI. 

TESTIMONY OF SOLDIERS. 
Additional Horrors Unfolded — A Plain Unvarnished Tale. ' 

This is all true as it is strange ; 
Nay, it is te times true, for truth is truth 

To the end of the reckoning. 

Shakspeare. 

From the Sanitary Commission Bulletin. 

The following statement was drawn up for the Com- 
mission, and sworn to !^y the parties signing it. They 
were exchanged on the 16th of August, 1864, and with 
three others, were appointed by their companions in 
prison as a deputation to see President Lincoln in their 
behalf. 

Deposition of Private Teacy : 

I am a private in the Eighty-second New York Regi- 
ment of Volunteers, Company S-. Was captured with 
about eight hundred Federu,x troops, in front of Peters 
burg, on the twenty-second of June, 1864. We were 
kept at Petersburg two days, at Richmond and Belle Isle, 
three days, then conveyed by rail to I ynchburg. March- 
ed seventy -five miles to Danville, thence by rail to 
Andersonville, Ga. At Petersburg we were treated 
fairly, being under the guard of old soldiers of an Ala- 
bama regiment ; at Richmond we came under the author- 
ity of the notorious and inhuman Major Turner, and the 
eq[ually notorious Home Guard. Our rations was a pint 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 167 

of beans, four ounces of bread, and three ounces of 
meat a day. Another batch of prisoners joining us, we 
left Richmond sixteen hundred strong. All blankets, 
haversacks, canteens, money, valuables of every kind, 
extra clothing, and in some cases, the last shirt and 
drawers had been previously taken from us. 

At Lynchburg we were placed under the Home 
Guards, officered by Major and Captain MofFett. The 
march to Danville was a weary and painful one of five 
days, under a torrid sun, many of us falling helpless by 
the way, and soon filling the empt}?^ wagons of our 
trains. On the first day we received a little meat, but 
the sum of our rations for the five days was thirteen 
crackers. During the six days by rail to Andersonville, 
meat was given us twice, and the daily ration was four 
crackers. 

On entering the stockade prison, we found it crowded 
with twenty-eight thousand of our fellow soldiers. By 
crowded, I mean that it was difficult to move in any dir- 
ection,without jostling and being jostled. This prison is 
an open space, sloping on both sides, originally seven- 
teen acres, now twenty-five acres, in the shape of a par- 
allelogram, without trees or shelter of any kind. The 
soil is sand over a bottom of clay. The fence is made 
of upright trunks of trees, about twenty feet high, near 
the top of which are small platforms, where the guards 
are stationed. Twenty feet inside, and parallel to the 
fence, is a light railing, forming the "dead line," beyond 
which the projection of a foot or finger is sure to bring 
the deadly bullet of the sentinel. Through the grounds, 
at nearly right-angles with the longer sides, runs, or 
rather creeps a stream through an artificial channel, vary- 
ing from five to six feet in width, the water about ankle 



168 SOUTHERN PEISONS; 

deep, and near the middle of the inclosure, spreading 
out into a swamp of about six acres, filled with refuse 
wood, stumps, and debris of the camp. Before entering 
this inclosure, the stream or more properly sewer, passes 
through the camp of the guards, receiving from this 
source, and others farther up, a large amount of the vi- 
lest material, even the contents of the sink. The water 
is of a dark color, and an ordinary glass would collect 
a thick sediment. This was our only drinking and 
cooking water. It was our custom to filter it as best we 
could, through our remnants of haversacks, shirts and 
blouses. AVells had been dug, but the water proved so 
productive of diarrhoea, or so limited in quantity, tliat 
they were of no general use. The cook-house was situ- 
ated on the stream just outside the stockade, and its 
refuse of decaying offal was thrown into the water, a 
greasy coating covering much of the surface. To these 
was added the daily large amount of base matter from 
the cam]3 itself. There was a system of policing, but 
the means were so limited, and so large a number of the 
men was rendered irresolute and depressed by imprison- 
ment, that the work was very imperfectly done. One 
side of the swamp was naturally used as a sink, the 
men usually going out some distance into the water. 
Under the summer sun this place early became corrup- 
tion too vile for description, the men breeding disgusting 
life, so that the surface of the water moved as with a 
gentle breeze. * 

The new comers, on reaching this, would exclaim : 
"Is this hell?" yet they soon would become callous, 
and enter unmoved the horrible rottenness. The Rebel 
authorities never removed away filth. There was seldom 
any visitation by the officers in charge. Two surgeons 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 169 

w*>re at one time sent by President Davis to inspect the 
camp, but a walk through a small section gave them all 
the information they desii-ed, and we never saw them 
again. The guards usually numbered about sixty-four, 
eight at each end, and twenty-four on a side. On the 
outside, within three hundred yards, were fortifications, 
on high ground, overlooking and perfectly commanding 
us, mounting twenty-four twelve-pound Napoleon Parr- 
otts. We were never permitted to go outside, except at 
times, in small squads to gather firewood for the squad 
we belonged to. During the building of the cook house, 
a few, who were carpenters, were ordered out to assist. 
Our only shelter from the sun and rain and night dews, 
was what we could make by stretching over us our coats 
or scraps of blankets, wliich a few liad, but generally 
there was no attempt by day or night to protect our- 
selves. 

The rations consisted of eight ounces of corn bread, 
(the cob being ground with the kernel, ) and generally 
sour, two ounces of condemned pork, ofiensive in 
appearance and smell. Occasionally, about twice a 
week, two tablespoonfuls of rice, and in place of the 
pork the same amount, "two tablespoonfuls" of moi- 
ass^ was giv^ us about twice a month.* This ration 
was brought into camp about four o'clock, p. m., and 
thrown from the wagons to the ground, the men being- 
arranged in divisions of two hundred and seventy, sub- 
divided into squads of nineties and thirties. It was the 
custom to consume the whole ration at once, rather than 
save any for the next day. The distribution being often 
unequal, some would lose their rations altogether. We 
were allowed no dish or cooking utensil of any kind. 

On opening the camp in the winter, the fii'st two thou- 
22 



170 SOUTHEEN PRISOTSr?-- 

sand prisoners were allowed skillets, one to fifty men, 
but these were soon taken away. To the best of my 
knowledge, information and belief, our ration was in 
quality a starving one, it being either too foul to be 
touched, or too raw to be digested. 

The cook house went into operation about May tenth, 
prior to which w^ cooked our own rations. It did not 
prove at all adequate to the work, (thirty thousand is a 
large town,) so that a large proportion were still obliged 
to prepare their own food. In addition to the utter 
inability of many to do this, through debility and sick- 
ness, we never had a supply of wood. I have often seen 
men with a little bag of meal in hand, gathered from 
several rations, starving to death for want of wood, and 
in desperation would mix the raw material with water, 
and try to eat it. 

The clothing of the men was miserable in the extreme. 
Very few had shoes of any kind, not two thousand had 
coats and pants, and those were late comers. More than 
one-half were indecently exposed, and many were naked. 

The usual punishment was to place the men in the 
stocks, outside, near the Captain's quarters. If a man 
was missing at roll call, the squad of ninety to which he 
belonged was deprived of the ration. The " dead line ' ' 
bullet, already referred to, spared no offender. One 
poor fellow, just from Sherman' s army — his name was 
Koberts — was tr3dng to wash his face near the "dead 
line" railing, when he slipped on the clayey bottom, 
and fell with his head just outside the fatal border. We 
shouted to him, but it was too late — "another guard 
would have a furlough," the men said. 

It was a common belief among our men, arising from 
statements made by the guard, that General Winder, in 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OB FLORENCE. -xtl 

command, issued an order that any one of the guard 
who should shoot a Yankee outside of the "dead line," 
should have a month' s furlough, but there probably was 
no truth in this. About two a day were thus shot, some 
being cases of suicide brought on by mental depression 
or physical misery, the poor fellows throwing them- 
selves, or madly rushing outside the "line." 

The mental condition of a large portion of the men 
was melancholy, beginning in despondency, and tending 
to a kind of stolid and idiotic indifference. Many spent 
much time in arousing and encouraging their fellows, 
but hundreds were lying about motionless, or stalking 
vacantly to and fro, quite beyond any help which could 
be given them within their prison walls. These cases 
were frequent among those who had been imprisoned 
but a short time. There were those who were captured 
at the first Bull Run, July, 1861, and had known Belle 
Isle from the first, yet had preserved their physical and 
mental health to a wonderful degree. Many were wise 
and resolute enough to keep themselves occupied — some 
in cutting bone and wood ornaments, making their 
knives out of iron hoops — others in manufacturing ink 
from the rust from these same hoops, and with rude 
pens sketching or imitating bank notes or any sample 
that would involve long and patient execution. 

Letters fron/ home very seldom reached us, and few 
had any means of writing. In the early summer a 
large batch of letters — five thousand we were told — 
arrived, having been accumulating somewhere for many 
months. These were brought into camp by an ofiicer, 
under orders to collect ten cents on each— of course most 
were returned, and we heard no more of them. One of 
my compani^yjs saw among them three from his parents. 



173 SOTTTHERlSr PRISONS; 

bnt he was unable to pay tte charge. According to the 
rules of transmission of letters over the lines, these let- 
ters must have already paid ten cents each to the Rebel 
Government. 

As far as we saw General Winder and Captain Wirtz, 
the former was kind and considerate in his manners, the 
latter harsh, though not without kindly feelings. 

It is a melancholy and mortifying fact, that some of 
our own trials came from our own men. At Belle Isle 
and Andersonville there was among us a gang of des- 
perate men, ready to prey on their fellows. Not only 
thefts and robberies, but even murders were committed. 
Affairs became so serious at Port Sumpter, that an 
appeal was made to General Winder, who authorized 
an arrest and trial by a criminal court. Eighty- six 
were arrested, and six were hung, beside others who 
were severely punished. These proceedings effected a 
marked change for the better. 

Some few weeks before being released, I was ordered 
to act as clerk in the hospital. This consists simply of 
a few scattered trees and fly tents, and is in charge of 
Dr. White, an excellent and considerate man, with very 
limited means, but doing all in his power for his patients. 
He has twenty -five assistants, besides those detailed to 
examine for admittance to the hospital. This examina- 
tion was' made in a small stockade attached to the main 
one, to the inside door of which the sick came or were 
brought by their comrades, the number to be removed 
being limited. Lately, in consideration of the rapidly 
increasing sickness, it was extended to one hundred and 
fifty daily. That this was too small an allowance is 
shown by the fact that the deaths within our stockade 
were from thirty to forty a day. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 173 

I have seen one hundred and fifty bodies waiting- 
passage to the "dead-house," to be buried with those 
who died in hospital. The average of deaths through 
the earlier months was thirty a day ; at the time I left, 
the average was over one hundred and thirty, and one 
day the record showed one hundred and forty-six. 

The proportion of deaths from starvation, not inclu- 
ding those consequent on the diseases originating in the 
character and limited quantity of food, such as diar- 
rhoea, dysentery and scurvy, I cannot state ; but, to the 
best of my knowledge, information and belief, there 
were scores every month. We could, at any time, point 
out many for whom such a fate was inevitable, as they 
lay or feebly walked, mere skeletons, whose emaciation 
exceeded the examples given in Leslie's Illustrated for 
June 18th, 1864. For example : in some cases, the inner 
edges of the two bones of the arms, between the elbow 
and the wrist, with the intermediate blood vessels, were 
plainly visible when held toward the light. The ration, 
in quantity, was perhaps barely sufficient to sustain life, 
and the cases of starvation were generally those whose 
stomachs could not retain what had become entirely 
indigestible. 

For a man to find, on talking, that his comrade by 
his side was dead, was an occurrence too common to be 
noted. I have seen death in almost all the forms of the 
hospital and battle-field, but the daily scenes in Camp 
Sumter exceeded in the extremity of misery all my pre- 
vious experience. 

The work of burial is performed by our own men, 
under guard and orders, seventy-five bodies being placed 
in a single pit, with head-boards, and the sad duty per- 
formed with indecent haste. Sometimes our men were 



174 souTHEEisr PEisoNS ; 

rewarded for this work with, a few sticks of fire-wood, 
and I have known them to quarrel over a dead body for 
the job. 

Our men — especially the mechanics — were tempted 
with the offer of liberty and large wages to take the oath 
of allegiance to the Confederacy, but it was very rare 
that their patriotism, even under such a fiery trial, ever 
gave way. I carry this message from one of my com- 
panions to his mother: "My treatment here is killii]^ 
me, mother, but I die cheerfully for my country." 

Some attempts were made to escape, but wholly in 
vain, for if the prison walls and guards were passed, 
and the protecting woods reached, the blood-hounds 
were sure to find us out. 

The number in camp when I left was nearly thirty- 
five thousand, and the number of deaths was daily in- 
creasing. The number in hospital was about five thou 
sand. I was exchanged at Port Royal Ferry, August 

16th, 1864. 

PRESCOTT TRACY, 

Eighty-second Regiment N. Y. V. 

City and County of New York — ss. 

' H. C. Higginson and S. Noirot, being duly sworn, 

say : That the above statement of Prescott Tracy, their 

fellow-prisoner, agrees with their own knowledge and 

experience. 

n. C. HIGGINSON, 

Co. K, Nineteenth HI. Vols. 

SIL^7 ESTER NOIROT, 

Co. B, Fifth New Jersey Vols. 



OK, JOBiJi, xiiJS n^UOOTE OF FLOKilNCJi. 175 



CHAP^R xym. 

THE EVIDENCE FROM WIRTZ'S TRIAL. 

Quotations from Ambrose Spencer. — Facts Developed upon that Trial. 
— Sufferings at Andersonville. — Character of the Testimony. — The 
Stockade. — The Cook-House. — The Hospital. — 'Phe Dead-House. 
— Condition of the Stockade. — Testimony of Medical Officers. — 
Causes of Disease and Mortality. — Preventive Measures. — Colonel 
Chandler's Report. — Colonel Gibb's Testimony. — Evidence of 
Rebel Officers and Soldiers. — Evidence of residents of Georgia. — 
Condition of the Hospital. — Charges and Specifications. — Addi- 
tional Testimony of Brutality. 

Tyrants seldom die 

Of a dry death; it waiteih at their gate, 

Drest in the color of their robes of state. 

Alley n'H Henry VII. 

In Ambrose Spencer's work entitled "Andersonville 
Prison," is contained a large amount of evidence col- 
lected frm the developments npon the trial of Wirtz, of 
which we quote the most important parts as tending 
fully to prove our own statements concerning the treat- 
ment of Union captives. 

CHARACTER OF THE TESTIMONY. 

It is argued that the evidence presenting the horrors 
of Andersonville is not of that class which is entirely 
reliable ; that those who were in the rebellion have been 
brought here forcibly by the government, and ^ade to 



176 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

testify in anticipation of reward by pardon, or through 
fear of being themselves punished ; and that the evi- 
dence of soldiers who were sufferers at Andersonville 
was highly colored, testifying as they did under a sense 
of the injuries inflicted upon them while prisoners, and 
warmed to enthusiasm in the enumeration of their 
wrongs. 

I need only say in reply that the carefal observer of 
this trial must have discovered how utterly powerless 
has been the language of witnesses to describe the real 
condition of affairs at Andersonville ; that where sci- 
ence has spoken through her devotees, where inspectors 
have tried to convey a correct idea, where the artist has 
sought to delineate, or the photographer to call the ele- 
ments to witness, they have all uniformly declared that, 
with all these appliances, nothing has presented in their 
true light the horrors of that place. The evidence be- 
fore you is of the highest character. It consists of many 
kinds, from many directions : from persons speaking in 
the interest and for the good of the rebel government ; 
from persons under a strong sense of the wrongs done 
these miserable wretches ; from disinterested observers 
neither in the one nor in the other army ; and from the 
injured themselves. And yet there is a most striking 
concurrence in all this testimony, all agreeing that his- 
tory has never presented a scene of such gigantic human 
suffering. If I can succeed in presenting to your mind 
a faithful picture of Andersonville as it was, or make 
such an analysis and grouping of the testimony as to 
show to the civilized world, in a tithe of its horrors, the 
suffering endured, I shall have accomplished all I can 
hope, and shall have done more than I fear I am able 
to do. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLOEENCE. 177 

THE STOCKADE. 

The stockade at Andersonville was originally built, 
as we learn from many sources, with a capacity for ten 
thousand, its area being about eighteen acres. It con- 
tinued without enlargement until the month of June, 
1864, when it was increased about one third, its area 
then, as ' shown by actual survey, being twenty-three 
and a half acres. The prison, as described by Dr. Jo- 
seph Jones, a surgeon of the rebel army, in his official 
report to the surgeon general, consisted of a strong 
stockade in the form of a parallelogram, twenty feet in 
height, formed of strong pine logs firmly planted in the 
ground, with two smaller surrounding stockades, one 
sixteen and the other twelve feet high, these latter, as 
he says, "intended for offense and defense. If the inner 
stockade should at any time be forced by the prisoners, 
the second forms another line of defense ; while, in case 
of an attempt to deliver the prisoners by a force opera- 
ting upon the exterior, the outer line forms an admira- 
ble protection to the Confederate troops, and a most for- 
midable obstacle to cavalry or infantry" (Record, page 
4328). To show more clearly the strength of this stock- 
ade, I quote again from Dr. Jones's report: "The four 
angles of the outer line are strengthened by earth- works 
upon commanding eminences, from which the cannon, 
in case of an outbreak among the prisoners, may sweep 
the entire enclosure" (Record, pages 4328 and 4329). 

On the outside of the inner stockade were erected 
thirty -five sentry-boxes or watch-houses overlooking the 
area within, which were so constructed as to protect the 
sentries from the sun and rain. From Colonel Chand- 
ler' s Inspection Report, dated August 6th, 1864, I quote 

the following : 
23 



178 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

"A railing around the inside of the stockade, and 
about twenty feet from it, constitutes the 'dead-line,' 
beyond which prisoners are not allowed to pass. A 
small stream passes from west to east through the inclo- 
sure, about one hundred and fifty yards from its south- 
ern limit, and furnishes the only water for washing 
Accessible to the prisoners. Bordering this stream, 
about thrpe quarters of an acre in the centre of the in- 
closure are so marshy as to be at present unfit for occu- 
pation, reducing the available area to about twenty- 
three and a half acres, which gives somewhat less than 
six square feet to each prisoner ; " and, he remarks, 
' even this is being constantly reduced by the additions 
to their number." 

The prison could now be considered as fairly initia- 
ted, and the absolute wants of those first sent there were 
supplied in so far as food alone was concerned. But 
yet no steps were taken to provide quarters or shelter. 
This neglect upon the part of the rebel authorities, of 
the officer who planned and erected it, and of its pres- 
ent commandant, can not be excused upon ordinary 
grounds. The materials for the construction of barracks 
existed near at hand, in the superabundant timber with 
which the whole country was supplied. Cabins, or huts 
of logs, such as answer the necessities and requirements 
of many of the inhabitants of that country, and which 
afford ample and comfortable abodes, might have been 
built easily and expeditiously by the negroes who raised 
the stockade. But there was no necessity of resorting 
to this plan even. Mills for sawing timber were nume- 
rous in the immediate neighborhood of Andersonville ; 
one was established and at work, propelled by steam, 
and which continued work during the entire war, was 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLOKENCE. 179 

located five miles from that place, upon the railroad. 
There were four other steam saw-mills within twenty 
miles, also situated upon the railroad, whose combined 
production of lumber has been estimated at over twenty 
thousand feet per day. 

The facilities for transportation were equal to any at 
the South, while labor, that of negroes especially, could 
be obtained without difficulty. Material, such as nails, 
was already in the possession of the authorities, and 
nothing but a willingness was wanting to provide such 
plain but necessary coverings for the prisoners as com- 
mon humanity dictated. 

This was not done then nor at any subsequent period, 
and the interior of the stockade remained, as it has been 
already described, a vast open parallelogram, whose 
interior was unencumbered, save by the unfortunates 
there incarcerated, and who were destined to remain 
there, with thousands of others subsequently added, 
exposed to the burning suns of summer, the drenching 
rains of autumn, and the cold blasts of winter, unpro- 
tected and uncared for. 

From the beginning to the close, the only shelter in 
the prison was such as the ingenuity of the prisoners 
could devise, all the standing timber and undergrowth 
having been cut away; and, with the exception of a 
small shed, covered but not inclosed, stretching across 
a portion of the north end of the stockade, nothing 
whatever existed to protect the prisoners from the in- 
clemency of the weather or the intolerable heat of that 
climate, 

The prison was entered by two gates, called the north 
and south gates ; the first situated a short distance north 



180 SOUTHERN PEISONS : 

of the bakery, the other a short distance from the south- 
west corner, and on the west side. 

THE COOK-HOUSE. 

Immediately above the stockade, and on the stream 
passing through it, was situated an immense cook-house, 
at which all the rations provided for the prisoners, if 
cooked at all, were prepared. The drainage and offal 
of this bakery passed immediately into the stream run- 
ning through the prison. Still above, and on the same 
stream, were located, at distances varying from a hun- 
dred yards to half a mile, several rebel encampments. 
These washed into the stream, and their sinks were lo- 
cated on it. 

THE HOSPITAL. 

The hospital, which was erected some time in June, 
1864, prior to which time the sick were treated under 
the shed already referred to inside the stockade, was a 
stockade inclosure similar to the prison; situated on the 
south side of the prison, about four hundred yards from 
the southeast corner, and containing live and a half acres. 
A stream of water passing through its southeast corner 
emptied itself into the stream crossing the stockade a few 
yards from the east side of the stockade. Within this 
inclosure were erected for hospital buildings long sheds 
constructed of poles, with roofs made of pine boughs, 
and in some instances of planks, without any siding or 
other protection. In some cases wall and fly tents, much 
worn and in a very bad condition, were used. This con- 
stituted the shelter furnished the sick. 

THE DEAD-HOUSE. 

The dead-house was a building similar to one of the 
hospital sheds, except that it was partially inclosed by 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOl.XE OF FLOKENCE. 181 

boards and puncheons nailed on its sides. To this 
place the dead were conveyed upon litters, blankets, 
stretchers, and by such other means as the prisoners 
could devise, and were conveyed thence in army wag- 
ons, about twenty -five in each load, piled up "like 
cord-wood," or "as a Western farmer hauls his rails," 
as one of the witnesses told you, to the burying-ground, 
which was situated a few hundred yards northwest of 
the stockade. 

COXDITION OF THE STOCKADE. 

Having thus given an outline of the stockade, the 
hospital, and their surroundings, let us inquire into the 
condition of each of these places, taking first the stock- 
ade. It will be remembered that the testimony is drawn 
from many sources. I present, 

1st. The opinions of medical officers in the service of 
the rebel government on duty at Andersonville and else- 
where at the time these sufferings are alleged to have 
been endured. 

2d. The opinions of rebel officers assigned to the spe- 
cial duty of investigating the condition of affairs at 
Andersonville, together with the records of the prison. 

3d. The opinions and observations of officers and sol- 
diers of the rebel army on duty at Andersonville. 

4th. The observations of persons residing in the 
vicinity during this period, and who paid frequent visits 
to Andersonville ; and, . 

5th. The testimony of the prisoners themselves. 

I shall endeavor to present the subject in the order 
above mentioned. 

TESTIMONY OF MEDICAL OFFICERS. 

Among the earlier official inspections given to this 



182 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

prison was that of Surgeon E. J. Eldridge, who made a 
report pursuant to instructions of Major Greneral Howell 
Cobb, and which accompanied the report of that General 
made upon the same subject to the Adjutant General of 
the Kebel Government for the information of the War 
Department, and which reached that department May 
21st, 1864. (See Exhibit 15, A.) He says: "I found 
the prisoners, in my opinion, too much crowded for the 
promotion or for the continuance of theii* health, par- 
ticularly during the approaching summer months. The 
construction of properly-arranged barracks, would, of 
course, allow the same number of men to occupy the 
inclosure with material advantage to their comfort and 
health. At present their shelter consists of such as they 
can make of the boughs of trees and poles covered with 
dirt. The few tents they have are occupied as a hospi- 
tal I found the condition of a large num- 
ber of the Belle Isle prisoners on their arrival to be such 
as to require more attention to their diet and cleanliness 
than the actual administration of medicine, very many 
of them suffering from chronic diarrhoea, combined with 
scorbutic disposition, with extreme emaciation as the 
consequence. The hospital being within the inclosure, 
it has been found impracticable to administer such diet, 
and give them such attention as they require, as, unless 
constantly watched, such diet as is prepared for them is 
stolen and eaten by the other prisoners." 

He then proceeds to urge up'on the authorities in Rich- 
mond the necessity of removing the hospital. On this 
point he says, "I consider the establishment of a hospi- 
tal outside of the present inclosure as essential to the 
proper treatment of the sick, and most urgently recom- 
mend its immediate construction." And to meet an ob- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF ELOREJfCE. 183 

jection which he says was made at Richmond to do this, 
because additional guards would be required, he says, 
"Nurses could be detailed with such discretion that but 
few would attempt to escape, and, with frequent roll- 
calls, they would not be absent biit a few hours before 
detected, and would be readil^^ caught by the dogs, 
always at hand for that purpose." 

Up to this time no bakmg for the prisoners existed, 
their rations being issued to them raw, as will aj)pear 
from the following paragraph in the report : "Their bak- 
ery just being completed will be a means of furnishing 
better prepared food, particularly bread, tJie half-cooked 
condition of w^hich has doubtless contributed to the con- 
tinuance of the bowel affections." The mean strength 
of prisoners at the date of this report, as shown by the 
journal kept by the prisoner, was about fourteen thou- 
sand. 

Thus we see that the sufferings at Andersonville were 
anticipated as early as May, and the Rebel Government 
duly warned. Of that question, however, hereafter. 

Without pretending to analyze the evidence of each 
particular medical gentleman who has testified upon this 
subject, as they all concur in the general facts in relation 
to the condition of the stockade, I select the report of 
one of til e most intelligent of their number, quoting him 
somewhat fully. The gentleman who speaks tlirough 
the report I am about to give, is Dr. Joseph Jones, Pro- 
fessor of Chemistry in the Medical College of Georgia, a 
graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, and a man 
of eminence in his profession. He went to Anderson- 
ville under the direction of the surgeon general of the 
Confederacy, pursuant to an , order dated Richmond, 



184 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Virginia, August 6th, 1864, in which the surgeon general 
uses the following language : 

"The field of pathological investigation aiforded by 
the large collection of Federal prisoners in Georgia is of 
great extent and importance, and it is believed that re- 
sults of value to the profession may be obtained by a 
careful investigation of the effects of disease upon the 
large body of men subjected to a decided change of cli- 
mate, and the circumstances peculiar to prison life" 
(Record, pp. 4324 and 4325.) From this it will be seen 
there was authority from a high source for his proceed- 
ings, certifying a knowledge of the condition of things 
at Anderson ville, in the surgeon general's ofiice, if it 
does not especially commend the humanity of that ofiice. 

After making some remarks in regard to the charac- 
ter of the soil, the internal structure of the hills, and 
so forth, Dr. Jones proceeds to give a table illustrating 
the mean strength of prisoners confined in the stockade 
from its organization, February 24, 1864, to September, 
1864. 

This computation, I may remark, is only approxi- 
mately accurate, and is arrived at by adding together 
the number of prisoners at the first, middle, and the 
last of each month, and dividing the result by three. 
His table, however, shows the following as the mean 
result : 



March 7,500 

April 10,000 

May 15,000 



June 22,291 

July 29,030 

August 32,899 



He says : "Within the circumscribed area of the stock- 
ade the Federal prisoners were compelled to perform all 
the of&ces of life, cooking, washing, urinating, defeca- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIS^E OF FLORENCE. 185 

fioiL exercise, and sleeping The Fed- 
eral prisoners were gathered from all parts of the Con- 
federate States east of the Mississippi, and crowded in 
the confined space, until, in the month of June, the 
average number of square feet of ground to each pri- 
soner was only 33.2, or less than four square yards" 
(Record, p. 4331.) 

"The figures," he says, "represent the condition of 
the stockade in a better light even than it really was, for 
a considerable breadth of land along the stream flowing 
from west to east, between the hills, was low and boggy, 
and was covered with the excrement of the men, and 
thus rendered wholly uninhabitable, and, in fact, useless 
for every purpose except that of defecation ' ' (Record, 
pp. 4331 and 4332.) 

It will be remembered that besides this swamp must 
be excluded the space between the dead line and the 
stockade, which, together with the bog, must be taken 
from the whole area. Colonel Chandler, in his ofiicial 
report, makes a computation showing that the actual 
space allowed to each prisoner was only six square feet, 
there being scarcely room for the prisoners all to lie 
down at the same time. Dr. Jones' s report continues : 

"With their characteristic industry and ingenuity, 

the Federals constructed for themselves small' huts and 

caves, and attempted to shield themselves from the rain, 

and sun, and night-damps, and dew. But few tents 

were distributed to the prisoners, and those were in most 

cases torn and rotten. In the location and arrangement 

of these tents and huts, no order appears to have been 

followed ; in fact, regular streets appeared to be out of 

the question in so crowded an area, especially, too, as 

large bodies of prisoners were from time to time added 
24 



186 SOUTHERN PRISOTSrS ; 

suddenly, withont any previous preparation 

The police and internal economy of the prison was left 
almost entirely in the hands of the prisoners themselves, 
the duties of the Confederate soldiers acting as guards 
being limited to the occupation of the boxes or look- 
outs arranged around the stockade at regular intervals, 
and to the manning of the batteries at the angles of the 
prison" (Record, pp. 4333 and 4334.) 

Again: " Even judicial matters pertaining to them- 
selves, as the detection and punishment of such crimes 
as theft and murder, appear to have been in a great 
measure abandoned to the prisoners. A striking in- 
stance of this occurred in the month of July, when the 
Federal prisoners within the stockade, tried, condemned, 
and hanged six of their own number who had been con- 
victed of cheating, and of robbing and murdering their 
fellow prisoners. They were all hung upon the same 
day, and thousands of prisoners gathered around to wit- 
ness the execution. The Confederate authorities are said 
not to have interfered with these proceedings. 

"The large number of men confined within the stock- 
ade, soon, under a defective system of police, and with 
imperfect arrangements, covered the surface of the low 
grounds with excrement. The sinks over the lower 
portions of the stream were imperfect in their plan and 
structure, and the excrement was in large measure de- 
posited so near the borders of the stream as not to be 
washed away, or else accumulated upon the low boggy 
ground. The volume of water was not sufficient to wash 
away the faeces, and they accumulated in such quanti- 
ties in the lower portion of the stream as to form a mass 
of liquid excrement. 

"Heavy rains caused the waters of the stream to rise, 



OIS, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OE FLORENCE. 187 

ancL, as the arrangements for the passage of the increased 
amounts of water ont of the stockade were insuihcient, 
the liquid faeces overflowed the low grounds, and covered 
them several inches after the subsidence of the waters. 

"The action of the sun upon this putrefying mass of 
excrement, and fragments of bread, and meat, and bones, 
excited most rapid fermentation, and developed a hor- 
rible stench. Improvements were projected for the re- 
moval of the filth, and for the prevention of its accumu- 
lation, but they were only partially and imperfectly car- 
ried out. 

" As the forces of the prisoners were reduced by con- 
finement, want of exercise, improper diet, and by scurvy, 
diarrhoea, and dysentery, they were unable to evacuate 
their bowels within the stream or along its banks, and 
the excrement was deposited at the very doors of their 
tents. 

" The vast majority appeared to lose all repulsion to 
filth, and both sick and well disregarded all the laws of 
hygiene and personal cleanliness. 

"The accommodations of the sick were imperfect and 
insufficient" (Record, pages 4333, 4334, 4335, 4336). 
Again he says : "Each day the dead from the stockade 
were carried out by their fellow prisoners, and deposited 
upon the ground under a bush arbor, just outside of the 
southwestern gate. From thence they were carried in 
carts to the burying ground, one -quarter of a mile north- 
west of the prison. The dead were buried without cof- 
fins, side by side, in trenches four feet deep. 

" The low grounds bordering the stream were covered 
with human excrement and filth of all kinds, which in 
many cases appeared to be alive ^vith working maggots. 

"An indescribable sickening stench arose from the 



188 SOUTHEKN PKISOlvrs ; 

fermenting mass of human dung and filth" (Record, p. 
4339). 

And again: "There were nearly five thousand seri- 
ously-Lll Federals in the stockade and Confederate States 
Military Prison Hospital, and the deaths exceeded one 
hundred per day ; and large numbers of the prisoners, 
who were walking about, and who had not been entered 
upon the sick report, were suffering from severe and 
incurable diarrhoea, dysentery, and scurvy. ... I 
visited two thousand sick within the stockade, lying 
under some long sheds which they had built at the 
northern portion for themselves. At this time only one 
medical officer was in attendance, whereas at least 
twenty medical officers should have been employed" 
(Record, pp. 4340 and 4341). 

By comparing two very interesting tables of statistics 
given in this connection by Dr. Jones, it wiU be observed 
that, although the number of sick in the stockade was 
the same as that in the hosj)ital, while the number of sur- 
geons in attendance in the stockade was greatly below 
that in the hospital, the deaths occurring were about the 
same in each ; or, in other words, the prisoners died as 
rapidly with treatment as without it. This is confirmed 
by the opinions of several surgeons, among them Dr. 
Roy, Flewellen, Head, Rice, and others, who have stated 
that medicines were of little use, and that more could 
have been done by dieting. 

Again Dr. Jones says : ' ' Scurvy, diarrhoea, dysentery, 
and hospital gangrene were the prevailing diseases. 1 
was surprised to find but few cases of malarial fever, and 
no weU-marked cases of typhus or typhoid fever. The 
absence of the different forms of malarial fever may be 
accounted for in the supposition that the artificial atmos- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROII^E OF FLORENCE. 18? 

phere of the stockade, crowded densely with human 
beings and loaded with animal exhalations, was unfavor- 
able to the existence and action of the malarial poison. 
The absence of typhoid and typhus fevers among all the 
causes which are supposed to ^-enerate these diseases 
appeared to be due to the fact that the great majority of 
these prisoners had been in captivity in Virginia, at Belle 
Island, and in other parts of the Confederacy for months, 
and even as long as two years, and during this time they 
had been subjected to the same bad influences, and those 
who had not had these fevers before, either had them 
during their confinement in Confederate prisons, or else 
their systems, from long exposure, were proof against 
their action" (Record, p. 4343). 

A most striking fact is here presented, which illus- 
trates, perhaps, in as strong a light as is possible, the ter- 
rible condition of our prisoners. The report shows that, 
in a region of country favorable to malarial fevers, per- 
sons lying in the open air, on the border of a swamp, 
without shelter, drinking unwholesome water — in short, 
with every surrounding conducive to malaria, still the 
poison of that atmosphere, made so by peculiar circum- 
stances, overcame all those influences, and rendered 
the place comparatively free from fevers of a malarial 
nature. 

After describing at some length the effects of scurvy 
and hospital gangrene, the report proceeds : "The long- 
use of salt meat, oftentimes imperfectly cured, as well as 
the almost total deprivation of vegetables and fruit, ap- 
peared to be the chief causes of the scurvy. 

"I carefully examined the bakery and the bread fur- 
nished the prisoners, and found that they were supplied 
almost entirely with corn bread, from which the husk 



190 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

had not been separated. This husk acted as an irritant 
to the alimentary canal, without adding rny nutriment 
to the bread" (Record, p. 4346). 

After speaking of the sheds used for the sick in the 
stockade, which were open on all sides, he says : "The 
sick lay upon the bare boards, or upon such ragged 
blankets as they possessed, without, as far as I observed, 
any bedding or even straw. Pits for the reception ol 
faeces were dug within a few feet of the lower floor, and 
they were almost never unoccupied by those suffering 
with diarrhoea. The haggard, distressed countenances 
of these miserable, complaining, dejected living skele- 
tons, crying for medical aid and food, .... and the 
ghastly corpses, with their glazed eyeballs staring up 
into vacant space, with the flies swarming down their 
open and grinning mouths, and over their ragged clothes, 
infested with numerous lice, as they lay among the sick 
and dying, formed a picture of helpless, hopeless mis- 
ery which it would be impossible to portray by words 
or by the brush" (Record, p. 4348). 

It would hardly seem necessary, if indeed it were pos- 
sible, to add coloring to the picture here drawn, I can 
not refrain, however, from noticing farther the condition 
of these prisoners, as we learn it from the same class of 
testimony. Dr. Amos Thornburg, a rebel surgeon on 
duty at Andersonville, from the 14th of April until the 
prison was finally broken up, fully confirms every thing 
said by Dr. Jones. After speaking of the terrible mor- 
tality among the prisoners, and in reply to the question, 
"To what do you attribute it ?" he says, "I attribute it 
to the want of proper diet ; the crowding together of too 
many men in the prison and in the hospital ; the lack of 
shelter and fuel, and consequent exposure. While I 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIN K OF FLORENCE. 191 

prescribed at the stockade, after tlie hospital was moved 
outside, the number of sick who couid not be admitted 
into the hospital became so great that we were compelled 
to practice by formulas for different diseases, numbering 
so that, instead of a prescription, a patient was told to 
use No.—" (Record, p. 2321). 

Manifestly improper as this method of treating dis- 
eases must appear to every one, it did not escape the 
criticism of the more conscientious even of those at 
Andersonville. Dr. Head, persisting in giving a pre- 
scription in each case, as he thought his duty as a con- 
scientious physician required, and not willing to accept 
a number prepared for all stages of any one disease, was 
told, on asking why he could not be permitted to pursue 
the safe course, "That he was not to practice in that 
way ; that he had to practice according to the formulas 
and numbers that they had" (Record, p. 2500). 

In reply to the question, ' ' Why did you object to it ? " 
he says,, "Because I could not prescribe properly for 
my patients, I looked upon it as utter quackery ; any 
body, whether he had ever read medicine or not, could 
practice according to the formulas. It was often doubt- 
ful whether a prescription would suit a case in its pre- 
sent condition. The doctors, however, had to take that 
or nothing." 

Dr. G. L. B. Rice, another surgeon on duty there, 
speaking on the same point, says : "I commenced pre- 
scribing as I had been in the habit of doing at home, but 
was informed that I would not be allowed to do that. I 
was handed a lot of formulas and numbers from one up 
to a certain point, and we had to use those. My opinion 
was that we could do very little good with that kind of 
prescription. It was very unsafe practice. I knew 



192 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

nothing about the ingredients in them, and had no 
means of knowing it ; I made complaints, but the chief 
surgeon would not allow a change" (Record, p. 3604). 

The testimony of Dr. Thornburg, and other surgeons 
who prescribed at the stockade, shows that after the hos- 
pital was moved outside, patients were not treated in the 
stockade at all, but only those who were able to crowd 
their way through that living mass to the south gate, or 
could induce their companions to carry them there, or 
as happened in rare instances, could have medicines 
sent in to them, received any medical attendance what- 
ever. Hundreds and thousands, as appears from the 
concurrent testimony of all the witnesses, sickened, 
languished, and died in that terrible place, without any 
medical attendance whatever. Horrible as this may 
appear, the hospital register bears indubitable proof of 
its truth. 

Let me, in this connection, refer to an exhibit show- 
ing certain computation made from that register. The 
phrase "died in quarters" in the column of remarks, 
Dr. Thornburg says, describes those cases just alluded 
to, and they are shown to have amounted to the fright- 
ful number of 3727. 

These dead, as we learn from Dr. Thornburg' s testi- 
mony, after being brought out, were examined, and, as 
far as possible, the diseases from which they died were 
entered, on the hospital register for a purpose so diaboli- 
cal, that one shudders at the thought, and which I shall 
hereafter notice. Others, the causes of whose deaths 
could not even be guessed at, or, as Dr. Jones describes 
it, morhi'Darii, were marked on the register "unknown." 
Prisoners would often die on their way to the sick-gate, 
or while waiting their turns at the gate, or on the way 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 193 

from the gate to the hospital ; and although in some 
cases such men might have been prescribed for, they 
could not afterward be identified, but Lad to be carried 
to the grave-yard, and buried among the nameless. To 
prevent, if possible, this utter annihilation of memory, 
^lame and fame. Dr. Thornburg instituted syste^ vf pla 
cards, by which he sought to prevent, if posslbie, this 
reckless wiping out of all traces of the dead, and which 
prevented its occurrence, he thinks, after June, 1864 ; 
but there had already gone to their last home, as Captain 
Moore, who reinterred the dead at Andersonville, tells us, 
four hundred and fifty-one of our brave soldiers. Who 
they are the Andersonville register tells not, but there is 
a register where they are all recorded in letters of light, 
and one by one will these unknown rise in judgment 
against those who are responsible for their deaths. 

Another frightful feature brought out by the testi- 
mony of Dr. Thornburg and others, and confirmed by 
nearly every soldier who testified before this court, is 
this, that only the worst cases were allowed to enter the 
hospital ; and so closely was the line drawn discrimina- 
ting against these supplicants, that often prisoners whc 
had been refused admission into the hospital died or 
their way back to their quarters. I will not stop now. 
ai 1 am not inquiring into the responsibility of parties, 
M notice the inefiable cruelty of compelling the sick to 
remain in the stockade until they were in a dying con- 
dition, as some of the witnesses say, before they were 
eligible to a space as large as their own persons in what 
was falsely termed a hospital. 

Nor did the rigors and sufferings of this prison cease 
till its very close. Their shelter continued the same- 
no more ; while the treatment in and out of the stockade 



194 SOUTHERN PKISOIS'S ; 

was not perceptibly better. From a temperature rang- 
ing during the summer up to near ISC^ Fahrenheit in 
the sun, as Dr. Thornburg tells you, during which ther^ 
were many cases of sun-stroke, it fell in the winter to a 
temperature much below the freezing point, nothing be- 
ing left these miserable creatures with which to resist 
the inclemency of the weather but diseased and emaci- 
ated bodies, and ragged, worn-out clothing. Dr. Thorn- 
burg says that during the winter there was weather suffi- 
ciently severe to have frozen to death men with the scanty 
supplies these prisoners had, and in their emaciated 
condition ; and Dr. Eice, after stating that the prisoners 
were exposed more or less during the whole winter, 
says, "I knew a great many to die there who I believed 
died from hunger and starvation, and from cold and 
exposure" (Record, p. 2696). This is more than con- 
firmed also by Dr. Bates (Record, p. 164) And to 
the eternal infamy of the man who registered it, and of 
the heartless wretches who caused it, let it be spread 
before the world that on the hospital register there ap- 
pears this entry: "T. Gerrity, 106th Penns3"lvania, 
frozen to death ; admitted January 3d ; died January 
3d — died in the stockade ; " showing that he not only 
froze to death in the stockade without medical treat- 
ment and without shelter, but that he was admitted into 
the hospital after death for a purDOse which I shall 
hereafter show. 

Wishing only to get at the truth of these things, and 
desirous particularly that the parties responsible shall 
be judged, as far as possible, out of their own mouths, 
I must trespass upon the patience of the court for a 
moment to notice the evidence of Dr. Gr. G. Roy, a rebel 
surgeon who was on duty from the 1st of September 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOrNE OF FLOKETJ^CE. 195 

until the close of the prison. In response to the question, 
"What was the condition of the men sent to the hospi- 
tal from the stockade ? Describe their diseases and ap- 
perance," he says, " They presented the most horrible 
spectacle of humanity that I ever saw in my life : a good 
many were suffering from scurvy and other diseases ; a 
good many were naked ; a large majority barefooted ; a 
good many without hats ; their condition generally was 
almost indescribable." And he goes on to say, "I at- 
tribute this condition to long confinement, want of the 
necessaries and comforts of life, and all those causes 
that are calculated to produce that condition of the sys- 
tem where there is just vitality enough to permit one to 
live. The prisoners were too densely crowded ; there 
was no shelter, except such as they constructed them- 
selves, which was very insufficient ; a good many were 
in holes in the earth, with their blankets thrown over 
them ; a good many had a blanket or oil-cloth drawn 
over poles ; some were in tents constructed by their own 
ingenuity, and with just such accommodations as their 
own ingenuity permitted them to contrive ; there were, 
you may say, no accommodations made for them in the 
stockade" (Record, pp. 485 and 486). 

Speaking of the east side of the stockade, along the 
stream, he says, "It is composed of marsh, and was 
blocked with trees which had been cut down, acting as 
an obstruction to all deleterious animal and vegetable 
matter that passed after heavy weather through this 
stream ; it accumulated and became very noxious, and 
was a very fruitful source of malaria." 

He then speaks of the large quantities of insects and 
vermin which resulted from a decay of animal or vege- 
table matter, and to such an extent was this place a 



196 souTHEEisr PRISONS ; 

breeder of insects, that lie says musquitoes — rarely 
lieard of in tliat vicinity — so filled the air ' that it was 
dangerous for a man to open his month after sundown.' 
He speaks also of the multitude of fleas there, and says 
' the fleas were as bad as musquitoes, and several weeks 
after the evacuation of the stockade they emigrated, and 
came up to the private houses in the vicinity, so that the 
occupants had to leave on account of them.' 

When we remember the facts brought out in such 
bold relief by the elaborate report of Dr. Jones as to the 
effect of slight abrasions of the skin on men under the 
peculiar condition of body that most of these prisoners 
labored under, it would seem to have been almost useless 
for them to have attempted to resist the destroyer. Far- 
ther along in his testimony Dr. Roy says, ' This marshy 
place I spoke of was just in the rear of the hospital, and 
the winds, of course, blew the odors from there across 
the hospital, and it was not until late in the winter, if at 
all, that any attempt was made to drain it.' Still pur- 
suing our inquiries in this direction, I desire to quote 
from a report made by Dr. G. S. Hopkins and Surgeon 
H. E.Watkins, addressed to General Winder, and which 
was made pursuant to his suggestion, as embracing in a 
concise form many of the causes of the disease and mor- 
tality at Andersonville. 

CAUSES OF DISEASE AND MORTALITY. 

"1st. The large number of prisoners crowded to- 
gether. 

' ' 2d. The entire absence of all vegetables as diet, so 
necessary as a preventive of scurvy. 

"3d. The want of barracks to shelter the prisoners 
from sun and rain. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 191 

''4th. The inadequate supply of wood and good 
//ater. 

"5th. Badly cooked food. 

"6th. The filthy condition of the prisoners and pris- 
on generally. 

"7th. The morbific emanations from the branch or 
ravine passing through the prison, the condition of 
which can not be better explained than by naming it a 
morass of human excrement and mud." 

PREVENTIVE MEASURES. 

"1st. The removal immediately from the prison of 
not less than 15,000 prisoners. 

2d. Detail on parole a sufficient number of prisoners 
to cultivate the necessary supply of vegetables ; and, 
until this can be carried into practical operation, the 
appointment of agents along the different lines of rail- 
road to purchase and forward a supply. 

3d. The immediate erection of barracks to shelter 
the prisoners. 

"4th. To furnish the necessary quantity of wood, 
and have wells dug to supply the deficiency of water. 

"5th. Divide the prisoners into squads ; place each 
squad under the charge of a sergeant ; furnish the nec- 
essary quantity of soap, and hold these sergeants respon- 
sible for the personal cleanliness of his squad ; furnish 
the prisoners with clothing at the expense of the Con- 
federate, and, if that government be unable fo do so, 
candidly admit our inability, and call upon the Federal 
government to furnish them. 

" 6th. By a daily inspection of bake-house and 
baking. 

"7th. Cover over with sand from the hill-sides the 



198 SOUTHERN PEISOi?f« , 

entire morass, not less than six inches deep ; board the 
stream or water- course, and confine the men to the use 
of the sinks, and make the penalty for the disobedience 
of such orders severe." 

I will not stop now to notice with what flippancy and 
recklessness the practical suggestions made by these 
surgeons were put aside and totally disregarded both 
by General Winder and Chief Surgeon White. 

I can hardly think that farther proof, inasmuch as the 
proof is already made cumulative from this class of wit- 
nesses, is needed. There have been examined, with re- 
gard to the condition of the stockade and hospital, over 
seventy witnesses, and an examination of their testimony 
will, as I before stated, show a complete and perfect con- 
currence. 

Referring back to Dr. Pilot's daily report to inquire 
whether it was impossible to supply proper food for the 
patients in those wards which he tersely characterizes as 
"wild with gangrene," we take the testimony of Uriah 
B. Harrold, a commissary of the Confederate Government 
stationed at Americus, and who was in court with his 
"abstracts of shipments of pro visions to Andersonville," 
on the requisition of the proper authorities there. 

In the month of July he shipped to that place as fol- 
lows : 



Bacon 102,000 lbs. 

Meal 63,000 bush. 

Flour 1,200 sacks. 

In August : 

Bacon 113,000 lbs. 

Meal 90,000 bush. 

Flour 1,000 sacks. 



Eice 14,000 lbs. 

Sirup 94 bbls. 

Whisky 15 " 



Rice 10,000 lbs. 

Sirup 131 bbls. 

Whisky 20 " 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 199 

In September : 

Bacon 124,000 lbs. i Rice 6,000 lbs. 

Meal TO, 000 bush. I Sirup 150 bbls. 

Flour 1,500 sacks. I Whisky 30 " 

These shipments were made by but one commissary,-^ 
it will be remembered, while there were fifty others to 
answer any requisitions upon them from the officials at 
Andersonville for the supply of that post and prison. 
The commissary stores at Albany, fifty miles from Ander- 
sonville, it was shown, were much larger than at Amer- 
icus, and the warehouses there were literally breaking 
down from the weight and quantity of stores assembled 
there. The commissaries at other points, near and 
easily accessible to Andersonville, were continually 
sending supplies to that point, as the requisitions were 
made upon them. 

The stores shipped from Americus alone will be seen 
to have been amply sufficient for the alleviation of that 
want, which all of the surgeons were daily deploring, if 
they had been properly applied to the purposes for 
which they were intended. The article of rice amounted 
to thirty thousand pounds in ninety days, or more than 
three hundred pounds for each day ; the flour, estimating 
the three thousand seven hundred sacks at fifty pounds 
each, would make over two thousand pounds for each 
day for the same period ; the sirup, rating the three 
hundred and seventy -five barrels at forty gallons each, 
would have afforded more than twenty pints per day ; 
and the whisky would give more than three hundred 
pints per day for the use of the patients in the hospitals. 

From these facts it may fairly be gathered that there 
was no want of supplies in the country ; and the ques- 



200 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

tion arises, What was done with those that were sent to 
Andersonville ? The testimony of Dykes will go far to 
clear up one branch of this inquiry. He said that " he 
knew James W. Duncan, who was in charge of the 
bakery and cook-house, and who was also a detective 
under Winder. He offered to sell me some sirup, ten 
barrels at one time, and said that Bowers, another de- 
tective, would show it or bring it to me. He told me 
that he had a large lot of Hour which he wanted me to 
sell for him." 

The question very naturally arises why the person 
sent by General Cobb to "inquire into the condition 
and treatment of the patients" in this hospital did not 
perform his duty, and ascertain from the means within 
his reach facts so accessible ? If stimulants were re- 
quired, why did he not ask the simple question if a 
requisition had been made for them? He very well 
knew that there were five distilleries in the county of 
Sumter alone, working under special contract with the 
government, a portion of whose produce must go to its 
agents, to be dealt out, on requisition, for hospital pur- 
poses. If the requisition had or had not been complied 
with, it was his duty to have reported the fact to his 
superior. In the same way he could have ascertained 
why no hour, or rice, or sirup was provided, for the 
means of doing so were within reach, and his duty was 
plain. 

The truth is, that during the whole rebellion, self- 
interest and self-aggrandizement, with a proportional 
display of official consequence, shining in buttons and 
lace, or riding on blooded horses, monopolized the time 
and thoughts of most of those in authority, and espe- 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIlsrE OF FLORENCE. 201 

cially those who were removed from the dangers of the 
front. 

The starvation, the suffering, hideous, horrible enough 
to awaken a cry that reached from one end of the Con- 
federacy to the other, was not sufficient to turn from 
frivolous pleasure those to whom important interests 
had been committed, and whose duties, properly per- 
formed might have mitigated the horrors which will al- 
ways rest upon the civilization of the country as one of 
the foulest blots that history records. 

Favoritism, nepotism, every influence that could be 
brought to bear to advance personal interests, were ram- 
pant, while due performance of duty was the exception 
to the reigning rule. While men rotted with gangrene, 
the surgeon was drinking the whisky intended to keep 
up life ; while the scurvy loosened the teeth and decay- 
ed the bones of its victim, the rice and flour provided 
for his nourishment were made up into puddings for the 
delectation of the surgeon' s visitors ; and when a cool- 
ing food or drink was needed for the fevered patient, the 
baker was engaged in selling the sirup which would 
have afforded it. 

And so, robbed, starved, polluted by disease, denied 
even straw to lie upon, rolling in a filth which was re- 
pugnant even to a negro' s notions of cleanliness — after 
due examination of such patients and their condition, 
the commanding general of the district reported, from 
information of one of his subordinates, that every thing 
had been accomplished which could be done for the 
comfort and medical care of the prisoners — that nothing 
is required more than has been provided for the treat- 
ment of patients, and that the medical director deserves 

especial thanks for the energy he has displayed in or- 
26 



202 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

ganizing and providing tlie necessary requisites of med- 
icines and hospital essentials ! 

After this, what could be done for the wretched vic- 
tims of a policy which seemed premeditated, and which, 
if continued, would make corpses of the last one of 
them? 

And this place, where sick and wounded men festered 
in their filth and degradation, was to be continued in 
the condition and under the auspices it was, and the 
whisky was to be drank, the money embezzled, the rice 
and flour to be made into puddings, and the sirup sold, 
to the everlasting shame of those concerned, and to the 
detriment of the fair fame of the South, its chivalry and 
its humanity. 

In July there seems to have been some correspond- 
ence between the rebel adjutant general and General 
Winder, who was then on duty at Andersonville. From 
a letter written by General Winder to Adjutant General 
Cooper, dated July 21st (see Exhibit No. 17), I extract 
the following: "You speak in your endorsement of 
placing the prisoners properly. I do not comprehend 
what is intended by it. I know of but one way to |)lace 
them, and that is to put them in the stockade, where 
they have between four and five square yards to the 
man. This includes streets, and two acres of ground 
about the stream." 

It will be observed that General "Winder was very 
careful not to mention the strip twenty feet wide cut off 
by the "dead line." At the close of this month, from 
what motive we can only conjecture, Colonel D, T. 
Chandler, of the Eebel War Department, was sent to 
inspect the prison at Andersonville, and on the 5th of 
August, 1864, he made a fall report. This report is no 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 20S 

stronger than others from which we have already quoted, 
but, as it is destined to figure extensively in this case at 
other points in the argument, I beg to make a few ex- 
tracts from it. He says : 

"A small stream passes from west to east through 
the inclosure, furnishing the only water for washing 
accessible to the prisoners. Some regiments of the 
guard, the bakery, and the cook-house being placed 
on rising ground bordering the stream before it enters 
the prison, renders the water nearly unfit for use before 

it reaches the prisoners From thirty to fifty 

yards on each side of the stream the ground is a muddy 
marsh, totally unfit for occupation ; being constantly 
used as a sink since the prison was first established, it 
is now in a shocking condition, and cannot fail to breed 
pestilence. No shelter whatever, nor materials for con- 
structing any, have been provided by the prison author- 
ities, and the ground being entirely bare of trees, none 
is within the reach of the prisoners." 

Again "The whole number of prisoners is divided 
into messes of two hundred and seventy, and subdivi- 
sions of ninety men, each under a sergeant of their own 
number ; and but one Confederate States officer. Captain 
Wirtz, is assigned to the supervision and control of the 
whole. In consequence of these facts, and the absence 
of all regularity in the prison grounds, and there being 
no barracks or tents, there are and can be no regulations 
established for the police, consideration for the health, 
comfort, and sanitary condition of those within the in- 
closure, and none are practicable under existing circum- 
stances There is no medical attendance fur- 
nished within the stockade." 

He says farther: "Many — twenty yesterday — are 



204 SOUTHEEIN^ PEISOI!f S ; 

carted out daily who have died from unknown causes, 
and whom the medical officers have never seen. The 
dead are hauled out daily by wagon-loads, and buried 
without coffins, their hands in many instances being first 
mutilated with an axe in removal of any finger-ring they 
may have. The sanitary condition of the prisoners is 
as wretched as can be, the principal causes of mortality 
being scurvy and chronic diarrhoea, the percentage of 
the former being disproportionately large among those 
brought from Belle Island. Nothing seems to have been 
done, and but little, if any eflTort made to arrest it by 

procuring proper food Raw rations have been 

issued to a very large proportion who are entirely un- 
provided with proper utensils, and furnished with so 
limited a supply of fuel that they are compelled to dig 
with their hands in the filthy marsh before mentioned 
for roots, etc." 

Surgeon Isaiah H. White, chief surgeon at the prison, 
in a report to Colonel Chandler, which was made an 
inclosure of his report to Richmond, says : 

"The lack of barrack accommodations exposes the 
men to the heat of the san by day and the dews by 

night, and is a prolific source of disease The 

point of exit of the stream through the wall of the stock- 
ade is not sufficiently bold as to permit the free passage 
of ordure when the stream is swollen by rains. The 
lower portion of this bottom-land is overflowed by a 
solution of excrement, which subsiding, and the surface 
exposed to the sun, produce a horrible stench." 

EVIDENCE OF REBEL OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS. 

I now turn to the evidence of rebel officers and sol- 
diers on duty at Andersonville. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 205 

Colonel Alexander W. Persons, of the rebel army, 
the first commandant of the post, who remained there 
until the latter part of May, says that after he was re- 
lieved he returned there again and drew a bill for an 
injunction, and when called upon to explain for what 
reason, replied, "To abate a nuisance: the grave-yard 
made it a nuisance ; the prison generally was a nuisance 
from the intolerable stench, the effluvia, the malaria 
that it gave up, and things of that sort." 

The view here presented must strike the court as 
graphic indeed, when, without the question of humanity 
or inhumanity involved, persons living in the vicinity 
of Anderson ville could gravely begin a legal proceeding 
to abate the prison as a nuisance on the ground mainly 
that the effluvia arising from it was intolerable ! 

Colonel George C. Gibbs, who afterward commanded 
the post, gives evidence on this point no less important. 
He was assigned to duty in October, 1864, and although 
the number at that time was greatly diminished, he 
speaks of the prisoners being badly ofi" for clothing and 
shelter, and in other respects destitute. Prior to this 
time — some time in July— he had visited the stockade, 
and he uses this language in regard to its appearance 
then: 

"I rode around it on three sides, I think, and could 
see into it from the batteries that commanded it. I 
never saw so many men together in the same sjDace 
before ; it had more the appearance of an ant-hill than 
anything else I can compare it to" (Record, p. 84). 

Nazareth Allen, a rebel soldier on duty at Anderson - 
ville during the summer of 1864, fully corroborates 
these opinions ; and farther, in relation to the location 



206 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

of troops above the stockade, and its effects upon the 
prisoners, says: 

"The cook-lionse was above the stockade, and a good 
deal of washing was done up the branch, consequently 
a great deal of filth went down. Some of the troops 
were encamped on the stream above, on the side of the 
hill, and the rain would wash the filth of the camps and 
sinks into the stream, which would carry it to the 
stockade. I have seen the prisoners using it when it 

was in this filthy condition The stench was 

very bad. I have smelt it when I was at our picket 
camps, about a mile in a straight line. It was so bad 
that it kept me sick pretty nearly all the time I was 
around the stockade. The soldiers preferred picket 
duty to sentry duty on that account." 

William Williams, another rebel soldier on duty at 
the time, fully confirms this. He was on duty both on 
parapet and on picket, and had opportunity of observa- 
tion. In reply to a question as to the condition of the 
stockade, he says : 

' ' It was as nasty as a place could be. On one occasion 
I saw a man lying there who had not clothes enough on 
him to hide his nakedness. His hip bones were worn 
away. He had put up two sticks, and fastened his coat 
over them, to keep the sun off his face. There were a 
good many lying down sick, and others waiting on them. 
The crowded state of the men and the filthiness of the 
place created a very bad odor. I have smelt it at the 
depot, about a mile from the stockade" (Record, p. 
801). 

Again he says : "The stream that passed through the 
stockade ran down between the 1st and 2d Georgia regi- 
ments and Furlow's battalion, and passed the bake- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 207 

house. All the washings from the bake-house went 
right through the stockade, and also the washings from 
the camps. The pits used by the men were not five feet 
from the stream. Sometimes when it was rainy, it was 
thick with mud and filth from the drainings of the 
camps inside the stockade " 

Calvin Honeycutt, another rebel soldier, on duty from 
April, 1864, to April, 1865, who was on duty on the 
stockade, and also on picket, coi-roborates the testimony 
of his comrades. 

James Mohan, a rehel private, afterward made a lieu- 
tenant, who was on duty at Andersonville for about, five 
months during the summer of 1864. gives similar testi- 
mony ; and John F. Heath, regimental commissary with 
the rank of captain, on duty from May to October, 1864, 
fully confirms the testimony upon this point already 
given. 

EVIDENCE OF RESIDENTS OF GEORGIA. 

Samuel Hall, a prominent gentleman residing in Ma- 
con, Georgia, whose sympathies, he tells us, were from 
the beginning with the rebellion, and who held a high 
civil official position, says, "When first I saw it, (the 
prison) in the month of August, it was literally crammed 
and packed ; there was scarcely room for locomotion ; 
it was destitute of shelter, as well as I could judge, and 
at that time there was a great mortality among the 
prisoners" (Record, p. 864). 

Rev. William John Hamilton also gives important 
testimony as to the condition of the stockade, which he 
visited in the capacity of a priest. He was there in 
May, and at different periods subsequently. He says : 

"I found the stockade extremely crowded, with a 
great deal of sickness and suffering among the men. 1 



208 SOUTHEKIS^ PKISONS; 

was kept so busy administering the sacrament to the 
dying, that I had to curtail a great deal of the service 
that Catholic priests administer to the dying ; they died 
so fast, I waited only upon those of our own Church, 
and do not include others among the dying. . . The 
stockade was extremely filthy, the men all huddled 
together and covered with vermin. The best idea I can 
give the court of the condition of the place is perhaps 
this : I went in there with a white linen coat on, and I 
had not been in there more than ten minutes or a quar- 
ter of an hour, when a gentleman drew my attention to 
the condition of my coat ; it was all covered over with 
vermin, and I had to take it off and leave it with one of 
the guards, and perform my duties in my shirt- sleeves, 
the place was so filthy " (Kecord, p. 1969). 

Again, giving an illustration of the sufferings of the 
prisoners, and especially of the intense heat of the sun, 
he says, ' ' I found a boy not more than sixteen years 
old, who came to me for spiritual comfort, without 
jacket or coat, or any covering on his feet, suffering very 
much from a wound in his right foot. The foot was 
split open like an oyster, and on inquiring the cause, I 
was told it was from exposure to the sun in the stockade, 
and not from any wound received in battle. On return- 
ing to the stockade a w-eek afterward, I learned that he 
stepped across the dead line and requested the guard to 
shoot him. ... He had no medical treatment, nor 
had any others, so far as I could see, to whom I admin- 
istered the sacrament in the stockade." 

Again he says : ' ' On my second visit, I was told 
there was an Irishman at the extreme end of the stock- 
ade who was calling out for a priest. ... I tried to 
cross the branch to reach him, but was unable to do so, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIT^E OF FLORENCE. 209 

as the men were all crowding aronnd there, trying to 
get into the water to cool themselves and wash them- 
selves, and I had to leave the stockade without seeing 
the man. . . . The heat was intolerable. There 
was no air at all in the stockade. The logs of which 
the stockade was composed were so close together that 
I could not feel any fresh air inside, and with a strong 
sun beaming down upon it, and no shelter at all, of 
course the heat must have been insufferable, at least I 
%lt it so. The priests who went there after me, while 
ildministering the sacrament to the dying, had to use an 
umbrella, the heat was so intense" (Record, p. 1981). 

Ambrose Spencer, a gentleman of prominence in his 
State, residing near Andersonville during the war, and 
a frequent visitor to that place, gives us a graphic pic- 
ture of the prison, which I cannot refrain from quoting. 

He says, "I had frequent opportunities of seeing the 
condition of the prisoners, not only from the adjacent 
hills, but on several occasions from the outside of the 
stockade, where the sentiners grounds were." 

And in reply to a question asking him to describe 
the condition of the prisoners, he says, "I can only 
answer the question by saying that theii- condition was 
as wretched as well could be conceived, not only from 
exposure to the sun, the inclemency of the weather, and 
the cold of winter, but from the filth— from the absolute 
degradation which was evident in their condition. I have 
seen that stockade after three or four days' rain, when 
the mud, I should think, was at least twelve inches 
deep. The prisoners were walking or wading through 
that mud. . . . The condition of the stockade can 
perhaps be expressed most accurately by saying that in 
passing up and down the railroad, if the wind was 
27 



210 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

favorable, the odor of the stockade could be detected at 
least two miles" (Record, p. 2455). 

There are others of this class who testify upon this 
point, but it would seem useless to give further extracts. 

It is not my purpose, in this connection, to enter into 
a detail of the sufferings, the acts of cruelty inflicted, 
and the inhuman treatment they received, or to inquire 
by whom these things were done. Reserving that for its 
proper place in the argument, I shall simply refer to this 
testimony to assist us in ascertaining more certainly the 
horrors to which these brave men were subjected. 

Dr. A. W. Barrows, hospital steward of the 27th 
Massachusetts regiment, and acting assistant post sur- 
geon at Plymouth, North Carolina, arrived at Ander- 
sonville on the 28th of May, and remained there six 
months. Owing to his knowledge of medicine and effi- 
ciency, he was paroled as a prisoner, and assigned to 
duty in the hospital. His testimony is important, as 
showing the condition of the hospital mainly ; but he 
has also given some material evidence with regard to 
the stockade, and from it I make the following extract : 

"I remember when there have been as many as sev- 
enty-five to one hundred who died during the day in the 
stockade, and who were never taken to the hospital. 
That was in the month of August." 

Robert H. Kellogg entered the prison on the 3d of 
May, 1864, and remained there until the following Sep- 
tember. He says : 

"We found the men in the stockade ragged, nearly 
destitute of clothing, totally unprovided with shelter, 
except that which tattered blankets could afford. They 
looked nearly starved. They were skeletons covered 
with skin. The prison seemed very crowded to us, 



OE, JOSrE, THE HEEOESrE OF FLORENCE. Jll 

althongh there were thousands brought there after that. 
. . . . They were in a very filthy condition— indeed, 
there were but two issues of soap made while I was 
there. . . . When we first went there, the nights 
were very cold. That soon passed away as the season 
advanced, and during the summer it was intensely hot. 
There were twenty-one rainy days in the month of June. 
Our supply of fuel was not regular nor sufficient. We 
were allowed to go several times under guard, six men 
from a squad of ninety, to bring in what we could find 
in the woods on our shoulders ; but the greater part of 
the time we had to rely upon our supply of roots which 
we dug out of the ground or grubbed for in the swamp 
— pitch-pine roots. . . . Rations were issued raw, 
many times without fuel to cook them. The squad of 
ninety, of which I was sergeant, went from the 30th of 
June to the 30th of 'August without any issue of wood 
from the authorities" (Record, pp. 361 and 362). 

Again he says : "The quality of the rations was very 
poor ; the quantity greatly varied. There were days 
when we got nothing at all.. I made a note of at least 
two such days. . . . There were other days when 
we got but very little; other days enough, such as it 
was. When my regiment went tliere, the men were 
healthy. They gradually sickened, untU, I remember, 
one morning at roll-call, out of my ninety there were 
thirty -two who were not able to stand up. This resulted 
principally from scurvy and diarrhoea. This was on 
the 21st of August, a number of the men of my squad 
having died up to that time. The mass of the men had 
to depend on the brook for their water. It at many 
times was exceedingly filthy. I have seen it completely 
covered with floatirig grease, and dirt, and oflfal. After 



212 SOTTTHEKN PKISO]!?^S ; 

the prisoners had been there some time, they dug some 
wells, and there were some springs along the south side 
of the prison, on the edge of the hill by the swamp, but 
the supply from that source was entirely inadequate ; 
they supplied the wants of a few. ... Of the four 
hundred men captured with me, over three hundred are 
dead ; they died in prison, or a few days after being 
paroled, and that is a larger percentage of living than 
there is in many regiments. The 24th New York bat- 
tery, which was captured at Plymouth, was nearly 
annihilated" (Record, p. 367). 

This is the simple, unvarnished narrative of perhaps 
as intelligent a witness as has been upon the stand. He 
has written a book, entitled '' Life and Death in South- 
ern Prisons," which has been used extensively by 
counsel for the accused. 

I do not want to burden the record with a recapitula- 
tion of all that these witnesses have testified to, but I 
think it can be safely said that not one word of Robert 
H. Kellogg' s has been or can be disproved. There are 
many of his comrades who fully confirm him, without 
adding any special facts that would tend to elucidate 
this point. These I shall omit in this connection. There 
are others, however, who give additional facts bearing 
on this subject, and I beg your indulgence while I refer 
to them. 

Boston Corbett' s testimony brings out some facts to 
which I first will call your attention. Speaking of the 
heat, he says, "It was so great that I have the marks 
upon my shoulders yet" (Record, p. 425). Of the 
brook and the swamp bordering it, he says, "It was a 
living mass of putrefaction and filth ; there were mag- 
gots there a foot deep ; any time we turned over the 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOII^E OE FLORENCE. 213 

soil we could see the maggots in a living mass. I have 
seen the soldiers wading through it, digging for roots to 
use for fuel ; I have seen around the swamp the sick in 
great numbers, lying pretty much as soldiers lie when 
they are down to rest in line after a march ; in the morn- 
ing I could see those who had died during the night ; 
and in the daytime I could see them exposed to the heat 
of the sun, with their feet swelled to an enormous size — 
in many cases large gangrene sores filled with maggots 
and flies which they were unable to keep off ; I have 
seen men lay there in utter destitution, not able to help 
themselves, lying in their own filth. They generally 
chose that place (near the swamp), those who were most 
offensive, because others would drive them away, not 
wanting to be near those who had such bad sores. They 
chose it because of its being so near the sinks. In one 
case a man died there, I am satisfied, from the effects of 
lice ; when the clothes were taken off his body, the lice 
seemed as thick as the garment — a living mass." 

Again: "The water in the stockade was often very 
filthy. Sometimes it was middling clear. At times I 
would go to those who had wells dug ; sometimes they 
would give me a drink, sometimes they would not ; they 
used such rough language to me that I turned away 
parched with thirst, and drank water from the stream 
rather than beg it from the men who had wells" (Rec- 
ord, p. 437). 

Again: "The minds of the prisoners were in many 
cases so affected that the prisoners became idiotic " (Rec- 
ord, p. 439). 

On page 452 of the Record, he says, "I have taken 
food given me to the stream and washed the maggots 
from it. I have seen them in the sores of soldiers there, 



214 SOUTHEEK PEISONS; 

and I have seen them in sncli a way that it is hardly fit 
to describe in this court." 

Too terrible for belief, as this may seem to be, it 
stands confirmed by at least fifty witnesses. 

Martin E. Hogan is a witness whom the court will 
remember as among the more intelligent, and at the same 
time truthful and candid. His observations were con- 
fined mainly to the hospital, but I feel impelled to make 
a brief extract from his testimony in regard to the 
stockade. 

He says : "At the time of my arrival there (speaking 
of the stockade) it was very much crowded, so much so 
that you could scarcely elbow your way through the 
crowd in any part of the camp. I noticed a great many 
men lying helpless on the ground, seemingly without 
care, without anybody to attend to them, lying in their 
own filth ; a great many of them calling for water ; a 
great many crying for food ; nobody apparently paying 
any heed to them ; others almost destitute of clothing, 
so numerous that I could not begin to say how many" 
(Record, p. 615). 

Then follows testimony similar to that of Boston Cor- 
bett in regard to the swamp and the vermin in it. 

Andrew J. Spring, who went to Andersonville in May, 
1864, says that, upon entering the stockade, "I found 
the prisoners destitute of clothing ; I could not tell, in 
many cases, whether they were white men or negroes." 

On the 27th of the same month he was detailed for 
duty outside. After being outside the stockade about 
six weeks, he says, "I applied to the lieutenant of the 
guard at the gate, and gave him twelve dollars in green- 
backs to let me go in and stay an hour to see our boys. 
I went in and spent an hour inside the stockade. A 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 216 

great many of the boys were very poor. They were 
some of my own best friends, whom I could not recog- 
nize till they came and shook hands with me, and made 
themselves known ; even then I coul^'. hardly believe 
they were the same men. I have seen men, acquaint- 
ances of mine, who would go around there, not knowing 
anything at all — hardly noticing anything ; I have seen 
men crippled up so that they had scarcely any life in 
them at all ; they would lie on the ground to all appear- 
ance dead ; I went up to several who I thought were 
dead, but I found they had a little life in them." 

James H. Da\idson (Record, p. 9364-), speaking of 
the condition of the stockade, says, "I have seen men 
who had the appearance of being starved to death. I 
have seen men pick up and eat undigested food that had 
passed through other men all through the camp. It 
came from men who were not able to go to the slough, 
and they would find it all through the camp." This, it 
will be remembered, is testified to by very many. 

Daniel W. Burringer says, "I have seen men eat 
undigested food that had passed through other men ; 
they would wash it and eat it — pick it up from the 
sinks" (Record, p. 1125). 

CONDITION OF THE HOSPITAL. 

It is not proposed to enter as fully into the condition 
of the hospital as might be done from the reports and 
evidence before us. Sufiicient will be given, however, to 
warrant the conclusion that it was very little better than 
that of the stockade itself; and, in view of the discrim- 
ination which the surgeons were directed to make in the 
admission of men from the stockade into the hospital, 
we can readily understand why the prisoners almost 



216 souTHEEN prisons; 

nniformly bade their comrades farewell when they were 
taken from the stockade to the hospital. The evidence 
which I shall bring to yonr recollection wHl also justify 
the remark made by one of the surgeons, who says that 
it really w-as no hospital. 

Here also we have recourse to the official report of 
Dr. Joseph Jones, in which we find his remarks upon 
the condition of the hospital quite as lucid and elaborate 
as those in reference to the stockade. 

After speaking of the stream running through one 
corner of the hospital stockade, and stating that its 
upper portion was used for washing by the patients, and 
the lower portion as a sink, he remarks : 

"This part of the stream is a semi-fluid mass of 
human excrement, and offal, and filth of all kinds. 
This immense cess-pool, fermenting beneath the hot sun, 
emitted an overpowering stench. , . . North of the 
hospital grounds, the stream which flows through the 
stockade pursues its sluggish and filthy course. The 
exhalations from the swamp, which is loaded with the 
excrement of the prisoners confined in the stockade, 
exert their deleterious influences on the inmates of the 
hospital." 

Within the hospital inclosure, less than five acres, he 
says, " the patients and attendants, near two thousand, 
are crowded, and are but poorly supplied with old and 
ragged tents. A large number of them are without any 
bunks in the tents, and lay upon the ground, oftentimes 
without even a blanket. No beds or straw appear to 
have been furnished." 

The tents extended to mthin a few yards of the small 
stream, which, as he before obsei-ved, was used as a 
privy, and was loaded with excrement. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITiTE OF FLORENCE. 217 

"I observed," he says, "a large pile of corn-bread, 
bones, and filth of all kinds, thirty feet in diameter, and 
several feet in height, swarming with myriads of flies, 
in a vacant space near the pots used for cooking. Mil- 
lions of flies swarmed over everything, and covered the 
faces of the sleeping patients, crowded down their 
mouths, and deposited their maggots upon the gangren- 
ous wounds of the living and the mouths of the dead. 
Musquitoes in great numbers also infested the tents, and 
many of the patients were so stung by these pestiferous 
insects that they resembled those suffering with a slight 
attack of measles. The police and hygiene of the hos- 
pital were defective in the extreme " (Record, pp. 4350- 
4351). 

Again: "Many of the sick were literally incrusted 
with dirt and filth, and covered with vermin. When a 
gangrene w^ound needed washing, the limb was thrust 
out a little from the blanket or board, or rags upon 
which the patient was lying, and water poured over it, 
and all the putrescent matter allowed to soak into the 
ground fioor of the tent. ... I saw the most filthy 
rags, w^hich had been applied several times and imper- 
fectly washed, used in dressing recent wounds. Where 
hospital gangrene was prevailing, it was impossible for 
any wound to escape contagion under the circumstan- 
ces" (Record, p. 354). 

Of the treatment of the dead, he says : " Tlie manner 

of disposing of the dead is also calculated to depress 

the already despondent spirits of these men. . . The 

dead-house is merely a frame covered with old tent-cloth 

and a few bushes, situated in the southwestern corner of 

the hospital grounds. When a patient dies, he is 

simply laid in the narrow street in the front of his tent, 
28 



218 SOUTHERlvr PRISOIN-S ; 

nntil he is removed by the Federal negroes detailed to 
carry off the dead. If a patient dies during the night, 
he lies there until morning ; and during the day, even, 
the dead were frequently allowed to remain for hours in 
these walks. In the dead-house the corpses lay on the 
bare ground, and were in most cases covered with filth 
and vermin" (Record, p. 43f>5). 

Farther on he says, " The cooking arrangements are 
of the most defective character. Two large iron pots, 
similar to those used for boiling sugar-cane, appeared to 
be the only cooking utensils furnished by the hospital 
for the cooking of near two thousand men, and the 
patients were dependent in a great measure on their 
own miserable utensils. . . . The air of the tents 
was foul and disagreeable in the extreme, and, in fact, 
the entire grounds emitted a most noxious and disgust- 
ing smell. I entered nearly all the tents, and carefully 
examined the cases of interest, and especially the cases 
of gangrene, during the prosecution of my pathological 
inquiries at Anderson ville, and therefore enjoyed every 
opportunity to judge correctly of the hygiene and police 
of the hospital " (Record, p. 4357). 

To show that this frightful condition of affairs did not 
cease after a great portion of the prisoners were removed. 
Dr. Jones observes: "The ratio of mortality continued 
to increase during September ; for, notwithstanding the 
removal of half the entire number of prisoners during 
the early portion of the month, seventeen hundred and 
fifty -seven deaths were registered from September 1st to 
the 21st, and the largest number of deaths upon any one 
day occurred during this month, on the 16th, viz., one 
hundred and nineteen. 

Afterward, remarking upon the causes of the great 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIU-E OF FLOKETCCE. 21& 

mortality among the Federal prisoners, he says, "The 
chief causes of death were scurvy and its results, bowel 
affections, and chronic and acute diarrhoea, and dysen- 
tery. The bowel affections appeared to have been due 
to the diet and habits of the patients, the depressed, 
de;iected state of the nervous system and moral and 
intellectual powers, and to the effluvia arising from 
decomposed animal and vegetable filth" (Record, p. 
4372). 

He says also : ' 'Almost every amputation was followed 
finally by death, either from the effects of gangrene, or 

from the prevailing diarrhoea and dysentery So 

far as my observation extended, very few of the cases of 
amputation for gangrene recovered" (Eecord, p. 4378). 

The evidence of Dr. J jhn C. Bates is important as 
showing the condition of the hospital. He was a rebel 
surgeon, on duty at Andersonville from the middle of 
September, 1864, to the last of March, 1865, embracing a 
period when it is claimed the sufferings were much 
lighter than they had been. This, we have already seen 
by Dr. Jones's report, was not true, even after thousands 
of the prisoners had been sent away, and we shall see 
from the testimony of Dr. Bates that it is wholly incor- 
rect. He says : 

"Upon going to the ward to which I was assigned, I 
was shocked at the appearance of things. The men were 
lying partially nude, and dying, and lousy ; a portion of 
them in the sand, and others upon boards which had 
been stuck up on little props, pretty well crowded ; a 
majority of them in small tents. ... I would go to 
other parts of the hospital when officer of the day. The 
men would gather round me and ask for a bone. I 
would give them whatever I could find at my disposition 



220 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

without robbing others. I well knew that an appropria- 
tion of one ration took it from the general issue ; that 
when I appropriated an extra ration to one man, some 
one else would fall mdnus. I then fell back upon the 
distribution of bones. They did not presume to ask me 
for meat at all. So far as rations are concerned, that is 
the way matters went along for some time after I went 

there They could not be furnished with any 

clothing except the clothing of the dead, which was 
generally appropriated to the living. There was a par- 
tial supply of fuel, but not sufficient to keep the men 
warm and prolong their existence. As medical officer 
of the day, I made examinations beyond my own ward, 
and reported the condition. As a general thing, the 
patients were destitute, filthy, and partly naked. The 
clamor all the while was for something to eat ' (Record 
p. 125). 

Dr. (t. G. Roy, whose testimony was before referred 
to, in speaking of the hospital, says, "I found it in a 
very deplorable condition. There was no comfort 
attached to it whatever. Many of the tents were badly 
worn, torn, and rotten, and of course permitted the 
water to leak through. The patients were not furnished 
with bunks, or bedding, or bed clothing, or anything of 
that sort" (Record, p. 480). 

He speaks, as did all the other medical officers on 
duty there, of the great dearth of medicines, but also 
concurs with most of them in the opinion that medicine 
was not so much needed as proper diet ; and he confirms 
generally the description given by Dr. Jones. 

On the 26th day of September, Dr. Amos Thornburg, 
assistant surgeon, in a report to Dr. Stevenson, the sur- 
geon in charge (see Exhibit No. 30), calls special attention 



OE, JOSIE, THE BTEROnTE OF FLOEElJirCE. 221 

to the very bad sanitary condition of the hospital. He 
reports ''that patients are lying on the cold ground, 
without bedding or blankets ; also, that we have a very 
scanty supply of medicines, and that the rations are not 
of the proper kind, and not issued in proper quantity." 

It is not a pleasing task to be compelled to enlarge 
upon this subject, for it is humiliating to humanity to 
know that men claiming to be civilized, boasting of a 
chivalry and refinement beyond all the rest of the world, 
could, in this nineteenth century, in this age and upon 
American soil, be guilty of a barbarism such as has been 
sketched, and which would have been a reproach to an 
Algerine in the palmiest days of his cruelty. 

The evidence is before the reader, direct and conclu- 
sive, for the facts of this odious guilt are equally proved 
as they are confessed. 

It will readily be supposed that, under circumstances 
such as have been narrated, where no regard was had for 
the comfort or health of the prisoners, and where the 
simplest and most obvious laws of hygiene were not 
only overlooked but most systematically disregarded, 
that a corresponding effect would be produced, and 
exhibit itself in the conduct and in the minds of the 
prisoners. A body of men, counted by tens of thou- 
sands, destitute of clothing, destitute of shelter, starving, 
unrestrained by any authority beyond what was 
requisite to keep them penned up, except their own 
unregulated impulses, could not be herded together for 
any great length of time without manifesting some of 
the very worst features of human nature, and rapidly 
retrograde to the normal condition of the species, and 
display all the characteristics of savages. 

Such, indeed, was the effect produced by the treat- 



222 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

ment of these prisoners at Andersonville. The daily, 
hourly degradation to which they were forced ; the 
withdrawal or withholding of all moral restraint; the 
filthy, groveling life whi^h they led, nncheered by one 
solitary hope of amendment, slowly sunk them deeper 
and deeper into despondency, turned their manhood 
into apathy, and debased their courage into brutality. 
They were converted into so many wild beasts, and each 
was animated but by one purpose — sought to accomplish 
but one object— prolonging their miserable lives by prey- 
ing upon their comrades in misfortune. 

All of the restraints that education and moral train- 
ing had thrown around them were swept away, conscience 
swung loose from its hold on responsibility, and they 
acted as if there was no more human accountability to 
hamper the full play of every vicious tendency that 
might impel them. There were men confined in that 
stockade who had been well born and tenderly nurtured, 
who had enjoyed all of the kindly influences that good 
example or refined associations generate or suggest, 
whose educations fitted them to adorn society and min- 
gle in the higher walks of life, and whose memories of 
pleasant homes, loving mothers, and gentle sisters would 
even there well up in their hearts to vindicate, as it were, 
the supremacy of their better natures. 

These suffered from the contamination of grosser 
minds, and were sunk to their level ; their integrity was 
sapped by the treacherous effects of constant intercourse, 
while their manliness was overwhelmed by the brutaliz- 
ing results of thek imprisonment ; and it would not be 
too harsh a judgment to pronounce the thirty-five thou- 
sand men there herded together as but one degree 
removed from absolute savages. In some respects they 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF FLOREJSTCE. 223 

did not reach the savage level, for he can boast of his 
endurance, but their manhood was gone ; he can pride 
himself upon his courage, theirs was broken by an accu- 
mulation of miseries under which the savage himself 
would have sunk. 

Wirtz had carefully marked the gradual development 
of these dangerous tendencies, and was at last satisfied 
that they had culminated into the utter demoralization 
o* the wretched subjects which he controlled, and he 
began, coward as he was, to fear their sudden exhibition 
toward himself. His visits to the inside of the stockade, 
never frequent, were now seldom made, and then with 
extreme precautions for his own safety. He well appre- 
ciated the danger of thrusting himself into the midst of 
the starving, maddened, reckless men, for he knew that 
his life would not be worth a minute' s purchase in the 
hands of these unutterably wronged soldiers, and he 
was, in consequence, seen only upon the platforms of 
the sentinels, outside the walls. He was afraid of any 
unusual assemblage of the prisoners, and his orders to 
the guards were imperative to prevent their congregating 
together, and to hinder any combinations for an escape. 

I confess that, to a greater or less extent, our nation- 
ality and the good name we bear are involved in the 
issue ; but I do not fear to present to the world on this 
account this great conspiracy of treason, this confedera- 
tion of traitors, though it shock the moral sentiment of 
the universe ; for, however much we may deplore the 
fact that at its head and front were Americans, once 
prominent in the councils of the nation, they have for- 
feited all rights — they have ceased in any way to repre- 
sent the true spirit of Americanism — they are outlaws 
and criminals, and can not, by their crimes, attaint our 



224 SOUTHEEIT PRISON'S *, 

fair escntcheon. It is the work of treason, tlie legitimate 
result of that sum of all villanies, and which, by many, 
very many proofs during the past four years, has shown 
itself capable of this last one developed. When v,re 
remember that the men here charged, and those incul- 
pated, but not named in the indictment, are some of 
them men who were at the head of the late rebellion 
from it* beginning to its close, and, as such chiefs, sanc- 
tioned the brutal conduct of their soldiers as early*as 
the iirst battle of Bull Run — who perpetrated unheard- 
of cruelties at Libby and Belle Island — wbo encouraged 
the most atrocious propositions of retaliation in their 
Congress — who sanctioned a guerrilla mode of warfare — 
who instituted a system of steamboat burning and firing 
of cities — who employed a surgeon in their service to steal 
into our capital city infected clothing — who approved 
the criminal treatment of the captured garrisons at Fort 
Pillow, Fort Washington, and elsewhere — who were 
guilty of the basest treachery of sending paroled pris- 
oners into the field — who planted torpedos in the paths 
of our soldiers — who paid their emissaries for loading 
shells in the shape of coals, and intermixing them in the 
fuel of our steamers — who ordered an indiscriminate fir- 
ing upon our transports, and vessels, and railroad trains, 
regardless of whom they contained — who organized and 
carried to a successful termination a most diabolical con- 
spiracy to assassinate the President of the United States : 
when we remember these things of these men, may we 
not, without hesitancy, bring to light the conspiracy here 
charged ? 

CHARGES AXD SPECIFICATIONS. 

Before this court, which was acknowledged to be, 
Tjeyond cavil, the most talented that had ever been assem 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITiTE OF FLORENCE. 225 

bled, and as to rank above exception, the jailer, whose 
current crimes have been delineated, was brought for 
trial. The charges and specifications were read to him. 
It is not considered necessary to give any explanation 
of them, as the reader can judge for himself. They are 
as follows : 

CHARGE 1. 

Maliciously, willfully, and traitorously, and in aid of 
the then existing armed rebellion against the United 
States of America, on or before the first day of March, 
A. D. 1864, and on divers other days between that day 
and the tenth day of April, 1865, combining, confeder- 
ating, and conspiring together with John H. Winder, 
Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, W. S. Winder, R. 
R. Stevenson, and others unknown, to injure the health 
and destroy the lives of soldiers in the military service 
of the United States, then held and being prisoners of 
war within the lines of the so-called Confederate States, 
and in the military prisons thereof, to the end that the 
armies of the United States might be weakened and im- 
paired, in violation of the laws and customs of war. 

SPECIFICATION. 

In this, that he, the said Henry Wirtz, did combine, 
confederate, and conspire with them, the said John H. 
Winder, Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, W. S. 
Winder, R. R. Stevenson, and others whose names are 
unknown, citizens of the United States aforesaid, and 
who were then engaged in armed rebellion against the 
United States, maliciously, traitorously, and in violation 
of the laws of war, to impair and injure the health and 
destroy the lives — by subjecting to torture and great suf- 
fering, by confining in unhealthy and unwholesome 
29 



05 SOTTTHEEN PKISONS ; 

qnarters, by exposing to the inclemency of winter, and 
to the dews and burning heat of summer, by compelling 
the use of impure water, and by furnishing insufficient 
and unwholesome food — of large numbers of Federal 
prisoners, to wit, the number of thirty thousand, soldiers 
in the military service of the United States of America, 
held as prisoners of war at Andersonville, in the State 
of Georgia, within the lines of the so-called Confeder- 
ate States, on or before the first day of March, A. D. 
1864, and at divers times between that day and the tenth 
day of April, A. D. 1865, to the end that the armies of 
the United States might be weakened and impaired, and 
the insurgents engaged in armed rebellion against the 
United States might be aided and comforted : And he, 
the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service 
of the so-called Confederate States, being then and there 
commandant of a military prison at Andersonville, in 
the State of Georgia, located by authority of the so- 
called Confederate States for the confinement of prison- 
ers of war, and as such commandant fully clothed with 
authority, and in duty bound to treat, care, and provide 
for such prisoners, held as aforesaid, as were or might 
be placed in his custody, according to the laws of war, 
did, in furtherance of such combination, confederation, 
and conspiracy, and incited thereunto by them, the said 
John H. Winder, Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, 
W. S, Winder, R. R. Stevenson, and others whose 
names are unknown, maliciously, wickedly and traitor- 
ously confine a large number of such prisoners of war, 
soldiers in the military service of the United States, to 
the amount of thirty thousand men, in unhealthy and 
unwholesome quarters, in a close and small area of 
ground, wholly inadequate to their wants and destruc- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 227 

tive to their health, which he well knew and intended ; 
and while there so confined, during the time aforesaid, 
did, in furtherance of his evil design, and in aid of the 
said conspiracy, willfully and maliciously neglect to 
furnish tents, barracks, or other shelter sufficient for 
their protection from the inclemency of winter and the 
dews and burning sun of summer ; and with such evil 
intent did take and cause to be takefi from them their 
clothing, blankets, camp equipage, and other property 
of which they were possessed at the time of I-i'ing placed 
in his custody ; and with like malice and evil intent, did 
refuse to furnish or cause to be furnished food, either of 
a quality or quantity sufficient to preserve health or to 
sustain life ; and did refuse and neglect to furnish wood 
sufficient for cooking in summer, and to keep the said 
prisoners warm in winter, and did compel the said pris- 
oners to subsist upon unwholesome food, and that in 
limited quantities entirely inadequate to sustain health, 
which he well knew ; and did compel the said prisoners 
to use unwholesome water., reeking with the filth and 
garbage of the prison and prison guard, and the offal 
and drainage of the cook-house of said prison, whereby 
the prisoners became greatly reduced in their bodily 
strength, and emaciated and injured in their bodily 
health, their minds impaired and their intellects broken; 
and many of them, to wit, the number of ten thousand, 
whose names are unknown, sickened and died by reason 
thereof, which he, the said Henry Wirtz, then and there 
well knew and intended ; and so knowing and evilly 
intending, did refuse and neglect to provide proper lodg- 
ings, food, or nourishment for the sick, and necessary 
medicine and medical attendance for the restoration of 
their health, and did knowingly, willfully, and mali- 



228 SOUTHEEIS^ PKISOINTS ; 

ciously, in furtherance of his evil designs, permit them 
to languish and die from want of care and proper treat- 
ment ; and the said Henry Wirtz, still pursuing his evil 
purposes, did permit to remain in the said prison among 
the emaciated sick and languishing living, the bodies of 
the dead, until they became corrupt and loathsome, 
and filled the air with fetid and noxious exhalations, 
and thereby gr^tly increased the unwholesomeness of 
the prison, insomuch that great numbers of said prison- 
ers, to wit, the number of one thousand, whose names 
are unknown, sickened and died by reason thereof : And 
the said Henry Wirtz, still pursuing his wicked and 
cruel purpose, wholly disregarding the usages of civil- 
ized warfare, did, at the time and place aforesaid, 
maliciously and willfully subject the prisoners aforesaid 
to cruel, unusual, and infamous punishment, ujDon 
slight, trivial, and fictitious pretences, by fastening large 
balls of iron to their feet, and binding large numbers of 
the prisoners aforesaid closely together, with large 
chains around their necks and feet, so that they walked 
with the greatest difllculty ; and, being so confined, were 
subjected to the burning rays of the sun, often without 
food or drink for hours and even days, from which said 
cruel treatment large numbers, to wit, the number of 
one hundred, whose names are unknown, sickened, 
fainted, and died : And he, the said Wirtz, did further 
cruelly treat and injure said prisoners by maliciously 
confining them within an instrument of torture called 
"the stocks," thus depriving them of the use of their 
limbs, and forcing them to lie, sit, and stand for many 
hours without the power of changing position, and being 
without food or drink, in consequence of which many, 
to wit, the number of thirty, whose names are unknown, 



^7J, JOSIE, TITE HEEOI]!«^E OF FLOKENCE. 229 

sickened and died : And lie, the said Wirtz, still wick- 
edly pursuing his evil purpose, did establish and cause 
to be designated, within the prison inclosure containing 
said prisoners, a "dead line," being a line around the 
inner face of the stockade or wall inclosing said prison, 
and about twenty feet distant from and within said 
stockade ; and having so established said dead line, 
which was in many places an imaginary line, and in 
many other places marked by insecure and shifting 
strips of boards nailed upon the top of small and inse- 
cure stakes or posts, he, the said Wirtz, instructed the 
prison guard stationed around the top of said stockade, 
to fire upon and kill any of the prisoners aforesaid who 
might touch, fall upon, pass over, or nnder, or across 
the said "dead line." Pursuant to which said orders 
and instructions, maliciously and needlessly given by 
said Wirtz, the said prison guard did fire upon and kill 
a large number of said prisoners, to wit, the number of 
about three hundred. And the said Wirtz, still pursu- 
ing his evil purpose, did keep and use ferocious and 
bloodthirsty beasts, dangerous to human life, called 
bloodhounds, to hunt down prisoners of war aforesaid 
who made their escape from his custody, and did, then 
and there, willfully and maliciously suffer, incite, and 
encourage the said beasts to seize, tear, mangle, and 
maim the bodies and limbs of said fugitive prisoners of 
war, which the said beasts, incited as aforesaid, then and 
there did, whereby a large number of said prisoners of 
war who, during the time aforesaid, made their escape 
and were recaptured, and were by the said beasts then 
and there cruelly and inhumanly injured, insomuch 
that many of said prisoners, to vat, the number of about 
fifty, died : And the said Wirtz, still pursuing his wicked 



230 SOUTHEKN PKISONS ; 

purpose, and still aiding in carrying out said conspiracy, 
did use and cause to be used, for the pretended purpose 
of vaccination, impure and poisonous vaccine matter, 
which said impure and poisonous matter was then and 
there, by the direction and order of said Wirtz, mali- 
ciously, cruelly, and wickedly deposited in the arms of 
many of said prisoners, by reason of which large num- 
bers of them, to wit, one hundred, lost the use of their 
arms, and many of them, to wit, about the number of 
two hundred, were so injured that they soon thereafter 
died : All of which he, the said Henry Wirtz, well knew 
and maliciously intended, and in aid of the then exist- 
ing rebellion against the United States, with the view to 
assist in weakening and impairing the armies of the 
United States, and in furtherance of the said conspiracy, 
and with the full knowledge, consent, and connivance 
of his said co-conspirators aforesaid, he, the said Wirtz, 
then and there did. 

CHARGE 2. 

Murder, in violation of the laws and customs of war. 

SPECIFICATION 1. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate Stwtes of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the eighth day of July, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the said so-called Confederate States, 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of America, 
while acting as said commandant, feloniously, willfully, 
and of his malice aforethought, did make an assault, 
and he, the said Henry Wirtz, a certain j)istol called a 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 231 

revolver then and there loaded and charged with gun- 
powder and bullets, which said pistol the said Henry 
Wirtz in his hand then and there held, to, against, and 
upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United 
States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a pris- 
oner of war, whose name is unknown, then and there 
feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did shoot 
and discharge, inflicting upon the body of the soldier 
aforesaid a mortal wound with the pistol aforesaid, in 
consequence of which said mortal wound, murderously 
inflicted by the said Henry Wirtz, the said soldier there- 
after, to wit, on the ninth day of July, A. D. 1864, died. 

SPECIFICATION 2. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonvi^le, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the twentieth day of September, A. D. 1864, 
then and there being commandant of a prison there 
located by the authority of the said so-called Confede- 
rate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken 
and held as such from the armies of the United States of 
America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, 
willfully, and of his malice aforethought, did jump 
upon, stamp, kick, bruise, and otherwise injure with 
the heels of his boots, a soldier belonging to the army 
of the United States in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, cus- 
tody, whose name is unknown, of which said stamping, 
kicking and bruising, maliciously done and inflicted 
T)y the said Wirtz, he, the said soldier, soon thereafter, 
to wit, on the twentieth day of September, A. D. 1864, 
died. 



232 SOIJTHERN PEISOITS; 

BPECIFICATION 8. 

In this, that tlie said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the thirteenth day of June, A. D. 1S64, then 
and there being commandant of a prison there located 
b}^ the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of America, 
while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of 
his malice aforethought, did make an assault, and he, 
the said Henry Wirtz, a certain pistol called a revolver, 
then and there charged with gunpowder and bullets, 
which' said pistol the said Henry Wirtz in his hand then 
and there had and held, to, against, and upon a sol- 
dier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, 
the said Henry Wirtz s, custody as a prisoner of war, 
whose name is unknown, then and there feloniously, 
and of his malice aforethought, did shoot and dis- 
charge, inflicting upon the body of the soldier aforesaid 
a mortal wound with the pistol aforesaid, in consequence 
of which said mortal wound, murderously inflicted by 
the said Henry Wirtz, the said soldier immediately, to 
wit, on the day aforesaid, died. 

SPECIFICATION 4. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the thirtieth day of May, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the so-called Confederate States for the 
lonfinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 233 

from the armies of the United States of America, while 
acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his 
malice aforethought, did make an assault, and he, the 
said Henry Wirtz, a certain pistol called a revolvei 
then and there loaded and charged with gunpowder 
and bullets, which said pistol the said Henry Wirtz in 
his hand then and there had and held, to, against, and 
upon a soldier belonging to the army of the Cnited 
States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a 
prisoner of war, whose name is unknown, then and 
there feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did 
shoot and discharge, inflicting upon the body of the 
soldier aforesaid a mortal wound with the pistol afore- 
said, in consequence of which said mortal wound, 
murderousl}^ inflicted by the said Henry Wirtz, the 
said soldier, on the thii'tieth day of May, A. D. 1864, 
died. 

SPECIFICATION 5. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the twentieth day of August, A. D. 1864, then 
and there being commandant of a prison there located 
by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and 
of his malice aforethought, did confine and bind within 
an instrument of torture called 'the stocks," a soldier 
belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the 
said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose 
name is unknown, in consequence of which said cruel 
treatment, maliciously and murderously inflicted as 
30 



234 SOtTTHERN PRISOlSrS ; 

aforesaid, the said soldier soon thereafter, to wit, on the 
thirtieth day of August, A. D. 1864, died. 

SPECIFICATION 6. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the first day of February, A. D. 1865, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of America, 
while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of 
his malice aforethought, did confine and bind within an 
instrument of torture called "the stocks," a soldier be- 
longing to the army of the United States, in his, the said 
Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of A'ar, whose 
name is unknown, in consequence of which said cruel 
treatment, maliciously and murderously inflicted as 
aforesaid, he, the said soldier, soon thereafter, to wit, 
on the sixth day of February, A. D. 1864, died. 

SPECIFICATION 7. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the twentieth day of July, A. D. 1864, then 
and there being commandant of a prison there located 
by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and 
of his malice aforethought, did fasten and chain to- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROTNE OF FLOEETiTCE. 235 

gether several persons, soldiers belonging to the army 
of the United States in his, the said liemy Wirtz's, cus- 
tody as prisoners of war, whose names are unknown, 
binding the necks and feet of said prisoners closely 
together, and compelling them to carry great burdens, 
to wit, large iron balls chained to their feet, so that, in 
consequence of the said cruel treatment inflicted upon 
them by the said Henry Wirtz as aforesaid, one of said 
soldiers, a prisoner of war as aforesaid, whose name is 
unknown, on the twenty-fifth day of July, A. D. 1864, 
died. 

SPECIFICATION 8. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the fifteenth day of May, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the auttLority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, will- 
fully, and of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel 
soldier whose name is unknown, then on duty as a 
sentinel or guard to the prison of which said Henry 
Wirtz was commandant as aforesaid, to fire upon a 
soldier belonging to the army of the United States in 
his, the said Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of 
war, whose name is unknown ; and in pursuance of 
said order so as aforesaid maliciously and murderously 
given as aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier did, with 
a musket loaded with gunpowder and bullet, then and 
there fire at the said soldier so as aforesaid held as a 
prisoner of war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound 



236 SOTJTHEKN PKISOIfS; 

with the musket aforesaid, of which he, the said pris- 
oner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. 

SPECIFICATION 9. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the first day of July, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the so-called Confederate States for the 
confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such 
from the armies of the United States of America, while 
acting as said commandant, feloniously and of his 
malice aforethomght, did order a rebel soldier, whose 
name is unknown, then on duty as a sentinel or guard 
to the prison of which said Wirtz was commandant as 
aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belonging to the army 
of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, 
custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; 
and in pursuance of said order so as aforesaid, mali- 
ciously and murderously given as aforesaid, he, the 
said rebel soldier, did, with a musket loaded with gun- 
powder and bullet, then and there fire at the said sol- 
dier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, inflicting 
upon him a mortal wound with the said musket, of 
which he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on 
the day aforesaid, died. 

SPECIFICATION 10. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the twentieth day of August, A. D. 1864, then 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIlSrE OF FLOREISTCE. 237 

and tliere being commandant of a prison there located 
by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously and 
of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel soldier, 
whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sentinel or 
guard to the prison of which said Wirtz was comman- 
dant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belonging to 
the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry 
Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is 
unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so as afore- 
said, maliciously and murderousl}'' given as aforesaid, 
he, the said rebel soldier, did, with a musket loaded 
with gunpowder and bullet, then and there fire at the 
said soldier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, 
inflicting upon him a mortal wound with the said mus- 
ket, of which he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to 
wit, on the day aforesaid, died. 

SPECIFICATION 11. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an ofl^cer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the first day of July, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and 
of his malice aforethought, did cause, incite and urge 
certain ferocious and bloodthirsty animals called blood- 
hounds to pursue, attack, wound, and tear in pieces a 



238 SOUTHEEN PRISOIS^S ; 

soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in 
Ms, the said Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of 
war, whose name is unknown ; and in consequence 
thereof the said bloojihounds did then and there, with 
the knowledge, encouragement, and instigation of him, 
the said Wirtz, maliciously and murderoiisl}^ given by 
him, attack and mortally wound the said soldier, in 
consequence of which said mortal wound he, the said 
prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the sixth day of 
July, A. D. 1864, died. 

SPECIFICATION 12. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the twenty- seventh day of July, A. D. 1864, 
then and there being commandant of a prison there 
located by the authority of the said so-called Confede- 
rate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken 
and held as such from the armies of the United States 
of America, while acting as said commandant, feloni- 
ously, and of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel 
soldier, whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sen- 
tinel or guard to the prison of which said Wirtz was 
commandant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belong- 
ing to the army of the United States, in his, the said 
Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of war, whose 
name is unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so 
as aforesaid, maliciously and murderously given as 
aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier did, with a musket 
loaded with gunpowder and bullet, then and there fire 
at the said soldier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of 
war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound with the said 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 23^ 

musket, of which mortal wound he, the said prisoner, 
soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. 

SPECIFICATION 13. 

In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the 
military service of the so-called Confederate States of 
America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on 
or about the third day of August, A. D. 1864, then and 
there being commandant of a prison there located by 
the authority of the said so-called Confederate States 
for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held 
as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- 
ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and 
of his malice aforethought, did make an assault upon a 
soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in 
his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of 
war, whose name is unknown, and with a pistol called 
a revolver, then and there held in the hands of the said 
Wirtz, did beat and bruise said soldier upon the head, 
shoulders and breast, inflicting thereby mortal wounds, 
from which said beating and bruising aforesaid, and 
mortal wounds caused thereby, the said soldier soon 
thereafter, to wit, on the fourth day of August, A. D. 
1864, died. 

By order of the President of the United States. 
N. P. CHIPMAN, 

Colonel and A. A. D. C, 

Judge Advocate. 

It would seem to be almost incredible that such a 
Icng-continued system of wrong and barbarity could be 
persisted in for month after month, with investigations 
going on under orders from the Eichmond authorities, 
and examinations under Cobb, without some facts be- 



240 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

coming known to the Confederate government; that, 
when Confederate surgeons have been sworn, where 
twelve thousand died, nine thousand six hundred might 
have been saved by using the most ordinary care, some 
rumors of such dreadful mortality must have found 
their way to the ears of those who held the remedy in 
their hands. 

Incredulity may rest its doubts upon this point, for 
all was known by the authorities at Richmond, and the 
sufferings which we have detailed were preconcerted 
there. 

From an article in the Richmond Examiner of the 
30th of October, 1863, it would appear that the whole- 
sale slaughter of Andersonville was designed^ and that 
the Northern prisoners were to be systematically exter- 
minated by their rebel jailers. That paper recommend- 
ed, under the above date, that '-Hlie Yankee prisoners 
he put where the cold weather and scant fare will thin 
them out in accordance tcitli the laws of nature P'' 
This was no irresponsible utterance of wild, murderous 
counsels by an individual fanatic, which passed as they 
were read, without carrying weight or influence with 
them — they were the foreshadowings of the mighty 
crime which was to be perpetrated — instigations to be 
followed of the wholesale extermination of the thou- 
sands who suffered in consequence of them. 

But let me return from this digression. One can 
hardly believe all these things of a government pretend- 
ing to struggle for a place among civilized nations, yet, 
horrible as it seems, the fact cannot be resisted. 

Do I do injustice to the leaders of the rebellion? 
Have I drawn inferences that are unwarrantable ? Is it 
indeed true that these men, high in authority, are not 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 24l 

responsible ? I think not. Motives are presumed from 
actions, and actions are louder than words. What was 
the action of Mr. Davis and his war minister upon these 
reports? The papers were pigeon-holed in the secre- 
tary's office, not even being dignified by being placed 
upon the regular files in tha proper oflaces, while Gene- 
ral Winder, the chief accomplice, instead of being 
removed immediately and broken of his commission, 
and tried for a violation of the laws of war, for crueltj^, 
inhumanity and murder — instead of being held up by 
that government as a warning to others, giving a color- 
ing of justice to their cause, was promoted, rewarded, 
and given a command of a wider scope and greater power, 
but still in a position to carry out the purposes of his 
government toward prisoners of war. History is full of 
examples similar in character, where a government, car 
rying out its ends, has selected as tools men not unlike 
General Winder, and history, faithful in the narrative of 
the facts, is faithful also in fixing upon the government 
who employed such persons, and sustained and rewarded 
them, the responsibility for the acts of their agents. 
James II. had his Jeffreys ; Philip II. his Duke of Alva ; 
Louis XIV. his Duke de Louvois ; the Emperor of Aus- 
tria his Haynau ; and Jefferson Dams his Winder. 

The closest scrutiny of the immense record of this 
trial will show that, up to the very close of that prison, 
there were no steps taken by the rebel government, by 
General Winder, or by any of the officers of his staff 
clothed with proper authority, to alleviate in any mate- 
rial particular the great sufferings of that place. You 
will remember the uniform testimony of the medical offi- 
cers, as well as of the prisoners who remained there dur- 
ing the winter of 1864-5, that there was no perceptible 
31 



242 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

change in the condition of the prison, and an examina- 
tion of the hospital register will show that tlie mortality 
even was greater during that period, in projDortion to the 
number of prisoners confined, than it was during the 
months of its most crow^ded condition. From the prison 
journal, kept by the prisoner himself, we find that in 
September, the mean number of prisoners being seven- 
teen thousand, the deaths were two thousand seven hun- 
dred ; in October, the mean strength being about six 
thousand seven hundred, the number of deaths was one 
thousand five hundred and sixty — nearly one out of 
every five ; in November, the mean strength being two 
thousand three hundred, the deaths were four hundred 
and eighty-five ; while those who remained to the very 
close — till the prison was broken up, are described by 
Greneral Wilson and others as having been " mere skele- 
tons" — "shadows of men." Nor must it be forgotten 
that the marks of this cruelty were so indelibly stamped 
upon its victims, that thousands who survived are yet 
cripples, and will carry to their graves the evidence of 
the horrible treatment to which they were subjected. 
The surgeons of our army who treated these shadows of 
men when they arrived within our lines at Jacksonville 
and Hilton Head tell you of hundreds who died before 
they could be resuscitated ; of others permanently disa- 
bled ; of others, on their partial recovery, being started 
upon their way homeward, and being treated again at 
Annapolis. 

Dr. Vanderkieft, of our army, speaks of the condition 
of those prisoners while under his treatment at that place. 
He says: " They were reduced, suffering from chronic 
diarrhoea and scurvy ; some of them in a dying condi- 
tion ; some of them died a few days after they arrived, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIXE OF FLORET^CE. 243 

and those who did recover were obliged to remain a long 
time in hospital before they were able to return to their 
homes" (Record, p. 505). 

And with that certainty with which science reasons 
from effect to cause, oftentimes after describing the con- 
dition of the men, as it has been brought out in this tes - 
timony, he concludes, "The sjnnptoms and condition of 
the patients presented cases of starvation." 

Nor must it be forgotten, in the summing up of the 
cumulative proof of the Andersonville horrors, that 
numerous photographs of returned prisoners were intr*^- 
duced here, and identified by Drs. Vanderkeift, Balser, 
and others, as representing cases no worse than hun- 
dreds and thousands they had seen. So impressive, in- 
deed, and so strong seemed this evidence of rebel cruelty, 
that the counsel for the prisoner sought in his cross- 
examination to show that they were fancy sketches. 
Are we told that these were improbable, and can not be 
believed, because it is said Mr. Davis is a good w,an — 
not capable of such cruelty % Are we told that no direct 
order of his is shown, and therefore, notwithstanding all 
these facts and circumstances narrated, he must be ac- 
quitted of all blame % The law governing cases of con- 
spiracy does not require us to show a direct order ; 
circumstances from which guilt may be inferred are 
sufficient. Tjie rebel chief did not find it necessary to 
issue du'ect instruction, nor, indeed, could it reasonably 
be expected He was too wary, too sagacious for that. 
Ivi.ichelet relates an anecdote of Louis XV. not mal- 
apropos. " The illustrious Quesnay, physician to Louis 
XV., who lived in the house of the latter at ^"ersailles, 
saw the kmg one day rush in suddenly, and felt alarmed. 
Madame Du Haurret. the wittv femme-de-chambr" m- 



244 SOUTHEKN PEISOTiTS ; 

quired of him why he seemed so uneasy. 'Madame,' 
returned he, ' whenever I see the king, I say to myself 
there is *a man who can cut my head off.' ' Oh,' said 
she, 'he is too good: " The ladies' maid thus summed 
up in one word the guarantees of monarchy. The king 
was too good to cut a man's head off; "that was no 
longer agreeable to custom ; but he could with one word 
send him to the Bastile, and there forget him. It re- 
mains to be seen whether it is better to perish with one 
blow, or to suffer a lingering death for thirty or forty 
years." 

Mr. Davis was not capable of being the instrument of 
death ; he was too good to be the keeper of a prison, and 
withhold from starving men their scanty rations, but he 
could send them out of his sight, away from the prison 
in plain view of his residence, into the dense forests of 
Georgia, and there forget them. If Jefferson Davis be 
ever brought to trial for his many crimes — and may 
Heaven spare the temple of justice if he is not — it will 
not do for him to upbraid and accuse his willing tools. 
Winder and Wirtz, as King John did Hubert for the 
death of Prince Arthur ; they will turn upon him and 
say, 

" Here is your hand and seal for all I did, 
And in the winking of authority 
Did we understand a law." 

And thus the thirteen months of the existence of this 
abode of wretchedness and death wore wearily on to 
their close, as the great events of the war reached their 
culmination. 

Changes had occurred in the internal administration 
of the prison, and others assumed the positions which 
their predecessors had vacated. The arch-dii-ectQr of 



OE, JOSIE. THE HEROINE OF FLORElSrCE. 245 

prisons had met with a change of more momentous 
importance to himself than to any whom he had left 
behind him. His commission was revoked. John H. 
Winder was no longer a brigadier general in the Confed- 
erate army. He had been summoned to answer for his 
crimes before a court whose jurisdiction could not be 
questioned, and whose judgment was irrevocable. He 
was dead — dead, with all the hideous accumulation of 
unrepented sins which he had scored up against himself 
there at Andersonville. His record was made out by his 
own hand, and he died too soon for human justice, too 
late for divine mercy. His name will go down forever 
linked with the terrible but just censure of Col. Chand- 
ler as one wlio advocated murder deliberately and in 
cold blood, and with the enduring execrations of every 
man of sensibility who ever had, an hour' s intercourse 
with him. 

The author does not subscribe to the paganism which 
forbids censure of the bad because no good can be uttered 
for the dead, nor will he be misled by the drivel of ' ' mag- 
nanimity' ' when he sums up the character of a deliber- 
ate torturer and slayer of helpless prisoners of war. He 
accepts the rule as laid down by Carlyle: "Above all 
things, let us rid ourselves of cant;" and, in dismissing 
the man Winder to the infamy which must ever be his, 
he bids farewell to the leading subject in a panorama of 
public horror, which will rival the most revolting of 
Dante's conceptions, because the pictures from his hand 
were real and conceivable. 

The weary months at last reached April in their re- 
curring order, when the sun of the twenty- seventh shone 
down upon the exhausted, degraded remnant who yet 
peopled that filthy stockade. Peace had at length come 



24S southeejST pkisois^s ; 

to them, but not in her poetical garb of purity. Her 
garments were defiled as she passed through that inclo- 
sure, where a holocaust of corruption had been offered 
up for thirteen months ; her smile was changed to sad- 
ness as she gazed upon the wrecks of humanity whose 
feeble voices welcomed her approach. But she bore 
them the tidings of freedom, and from that moment they 
felt their manhood return to them again — they were free 
at last ! 

The jailer Wirtz had continued his residence near the 
Rtockade with his family, and there the peace found him, 
terrified, trembling at the future that he saw before 'him. 
His occupation was gone ; his companions in crime had 
left him the sole occupant of the theatre of his past atro- 
cities, to confront by himself the scorn and vengeance of 
an outraged nation. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 247 



CHAPTER XIX. 

AN EPISODE OF LOVE. 

1 Visit a Planter's House, and there again meet Miss Seymour. — A 
Union of Hearts. 

Love is Life's end; an end but never ending; 

All joys, all sweets, all happiness, awarding; 

Love is life's wealth (ne'er spent but ever spending) 

More rich by giving, taking by discarding ; 

Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding. 

Spenser. 

Occasionally, even at Andersonville, we had some 
sport among ourselves, and wlienever anything of that 
sort was geing forward I almost always contrived to 
have a hand in, not having quite lost all my j^outhful 
elasticity, and having gained in spirits as well as in 
health since my taking up my recent out-of-door occu- 
pations. There were a few families living in Anderson- 
ville, and I now contrived to become acquainted with 
them 

We lived in little log huts, outside of the stockades, 
and in the immediate vicinity of the railroad station. 
The evenings were always our own, save when the num.- 
ber of dead bodies was occasionally so extreme that we 
were unable to get through with the work of burying 
them during the day, and in such events we w^ere obliged 
to work at night, and sometimes until very late, so that 
we might be ready to commence upon a fresh lot of 
bodies early on the ne:^i morning. 



248 SOUTHEKN PRISOITS • 

Soon after being placed outside I formed the acquaint- 
ance of one of the Rebel soldiers, who was known to all 
the families in the vicinity of Andersonville, and by 
adroit manoeuvering got into his good graces, and by his 
assistance and introduction made the acquaintance of 
several of the families whom I desired most to know. 
It need not seem strange that a Rebel guard and a Yan- 
kee prisoner affiliated thus closely. It was one of those 
exceptions which were constantly witnessed during the 
rebellion to, all rules. Indeed it was a noticeable thing 
that after fighting each other most gallantly for a time, 
the common soldiers began to entertain a feeling of 
mutual respect, and when thrown together by accident, 
would live as quietly and peacefully as if they belonged 
to the same regiment, associating as old friends during 
this period, and each, if they chanced to be marksmen 
on picket duty, attempting to take the life of the other, 
within five minutes of their regaining their own lines. 

So one evening, my Rebel acquaintance or friend, 
just as the reader is pleased to regard him, invited mt 
to make -a call with him upon a certain family with 
whom he was particularly well acquainted, and one of 
the very best in the vicinity, he said. I acceded, having 
no reluctance, whatever, to spend a pleasant evening in 
Dixie, if I could not do it just yet at the North, and 
besides I did not now present the woe-begone appear- 
ance the prisoners usually did. My physique, as to face 
and person, had very much changed for the better, and 
I had supplied myselt with tolerably good clothing 
through the same acquaintance, there being no danger 
that any one would dare to molest me in them or strip 
me of them while I was engaged in my present occupa- 
tion, being expressly under the care and protection of 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIfE OF FLORENCE. 24 

Capt. Wirtz, whom his own men feared to provoke, just 
as fully as did any Union prisoner in his hands. 

At about eight o'clock in the evening, we arrived at 
the place, to which my companion had led the way. It 
seemed the house and grounds of a rich man. The 
mansion itself was large and roomy, mostly being sit- 
uated on the ground floor, as is generally the case with 
Southern houses, such buildings being cooler, a free 
draught of air playing through the entire house, and 
saving to the occupants during the summer weather, 
when the}^ have become enervated by the long contin- 
ued heat, tlie weariness of ascending staircases. In the 
construction of their residences, the Southern character, 
or the better part of it, se«ms to have been set forth. 
As their plantations were broad and generous, as their 
wealth was often princely and great, as they were rarely 
compelled to bend to thoughts of economy, and dis- 
pensed hospitality with a generous, lavish hand, so they 
built their houses on the same plan, broad, open and 
ample, with room enough for two or three families of 
the size of that which owned the plantation, and, as we 
have said, almost all the rooms occupied by the family 
were upon the ground floor. 

The grounds about the mansion seemed no less attrac- 
tive than the house itself. '■ Jiey rose slowly bacK to 
where the residence stood, and were beautifully shaded 
by the charming trees of the South, which not only cast 
an enchanting veil over them and the house, but many 
of them made the air delicious with the perfume of their 
flowers. Of flowers themselves there was also a profu- 
sion, as I could then, however, only distinguish by the 
many scents which filled the air and told as plainly as 

words could do, that the persons inhabiting the house 
32 



250 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

were cultivated, refined and lovers of the pure joys 
wliicli the Creator has given man here in such abund- 
ance that it seems strange how he can long for those 
that defile and enervate. 

After moving slowly through the garden and up the 
broad avenue, which led to the house, my companion 
clearly enjoying the delicious night and the delightful 
surroundings as deeply as did I, who was drinking it 
all in rapturousl}^, after having for years been almost 
entirely banished from such Edens, we reached the 
house, mounted a low piazza which ran round three 
sides of the house, and knocked for admittance. A 
female servant, neatly dressed and without any of the 
gaudy display which usually characterized the quad- 
roons of the South, opened the door and pleasantly and 
with very good breeding invited us in, showing us first 
into a hall and then into the parlor. 

This was a large, but rather low, ceiled room, to my 
Northern ideas, though fully as high as often seen on 
the plantations of the South, divided from what I judged 
was an inner parlor, by folding doors, and hung round 
the walls with pictures, which even my unpracticed eye 
told me at once were good, and the refinement of the 
owner was still further proclaimed by a large library, 
tilled with standard and choice books, and occupying 
part of one side of the room. There were many pleas 
ant easy chairs, some of the cool bamboo, some rock- 
ers, and some of that easy pattern which have come 
into vogue during the last few years, and which, by 
yielding as the person leans back in one, constitute a 
reading, sleeping or sick man's chair. 

I had been afforded time leisurely to scan the differ- 
ent objects in the apartment, and muse a little as to 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIjN'E OF FLORENCE. 251 

what tlie appearance of its owner and his family would 
be, when my attention was arrested by a low talking 
behind the folding doors, a little subdued laughter, 
when they were drawn back and Mr. R., his wife, his 
daughter and another young lady stood revealed to my 
view. 

One of the young ladies seemed strangely familiar 
to me, and, though her face was not yet turned towards 
me, I was convinced that it was no other than Miss Sey- 
mour. To say that I was a little startled is only to con- 
fess what would be true of any man in my position, 
thus suddenly brought into contact with the one he 
loves, after a separation of months (during which period 
I had undergone all kinds of apprehensions concerniTig 
her) and had himself been shut up in a Rebel prison, 
completely cut off from the sweet companionship of 
woman. To say that I was delighted would but faintl}- 
express the emotions that swelled my heart to overhow- 
ing. 

After remaining turned away from me for a minute or 
two, while I hesitated to advance mainly because of the 
presence of our host and his famil}^, she turned towards 
me, revealing her sweet face, and coming frankly for- 
ward to where I stood, put both hands in mine, and 
welcomed me in few words, but with tones of joy and 
with deep blushes mantling her cheeks that gave me 
sweet assurance of the kindness entertained for me in 
her heart. She then formally presented me to Mr. R., 
his wife and daughter, and we soon entered into general 
conversation, while my Rebel friend, for now so I con- 
sidered him in reality, after a little occupied the others. 
I managed to engage Miss Seymour in quiet conversa- 
tion. She told me that having known of my being 



252 SOUTHEKN PKISONS ; 

removed to Andersonville, through our meeting at 
Atlanta, she had come to the vicinity and taken up her 
residence with Mr. E.'s family, with whom she had long 
been acquainted. Through her maneuvers the Kebel 
had been induced by them to bring me to the house, 
and now I experienced the joy resulting from her hap- 
ply formed and promptly executed plans. I thanked 
her from my heart for her great kindness, and, though 
the words were poorl}^ chosen, the whole meeting com- 
ing so suddenly upon me, I am certain she knew I was 
grateful, and, more than that, that I loved her devotedly. 
We remained in this paradise until the warning note 
of eleven o'clock sounding told us that we must part for 
the present. I did not go, however, without obtaining 
my first good night kiss from my darling, and an invita- 
tion, shyly expressed, but telling volumes, to come and 
see her as often as I could. In returning to the camp we 
did not follow the usual course, but passed through a 
piece of woods, as neither of us wished to be seen or 
have any intruders on our happiness, as I suspected my 
Rebel friend was not a little interested in the fair daugh- 
ter of Mr. R. I found all my comrades fast asleep, 
and over a good pipe of tobacco I mused long over my 
strange adventures and the great good fortune which 
had given me so charming and so dear a friend, who 
seemed to have been raised up by Providence to aid the 
captive in his need. In vain, long after I had sought 
my apology for a couch, did I woo the goddess sleep. 
Many thoughts rushed in rapid succession through my 
fevered brain ; of Miss Seymour, wild plans of escape, 
and the prudence of immediately telling her how I 
loved her, and beseeching her to fly with me at once 
and seek the Northern lines. At last, towards morning. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 253 

all seemed to whirl through my weary brain together, 
and in a kind of stupor I fell asleep. 

The next morning we resumed our usual occupation 
of grave digging and continued employed at it all day. 
Had it not been for a most unfortunate rain which fell 
and lasted all the afternoon, I should have enjoyed 
another delightful evening with my fair friend. But the 
rain poured down so persistently and so long that it 
interfered greatly with the progress of our work, and 
the disagreeable consequence was that we were com- 
pelled to labor into the night to get through our painful 
duty. It will be readily imagined that the Rebels 
received anything but my thanks and blessings for this 
state of things, though I could hardly hold them respon- 
sible with much fairness. 

The next morning brouglit a renewal of the storm, ' 
and for three long days and nights I was prevented by 
this horrible work from seeing my darling once. Tlie 
work was, too, unusually sickening at this time, the 
dampness of the atmosphere contributing greatly to the 
rapid decomposition of the bodies, and the consequent 
foul odors with which we were assailed. At last upon 
the evening of the fourth day since I had seen her, the 
hateful work was done in due season, and I hastened 
to meet my love. For many evenings 1 enjoyed de- 
lightful interviews with her, each of which not only 
proved beneficial and joyous, but implanted in my 
mind and in my heart memories never to be forgotten. 
Miss Seymour was not only young and beautiful, but 
she was elegant and accomplished. There was about 
her a brilliancy, both personal and mental, that I had 
never before seen united in the same person. In the 
ease, dignity, and grace of her manners, she was the 



254 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

admiration of all, and lier conversation was so instrnc- 
tive and varied, so fraught with every embellishment 
that could render female eloquence charming, and 
so chastened with piety, that I thought her a paragon, 
not only of eloquence but of excellence. Evening 
after evening, as I have said before, I enjoyed her com- 
pany, her sweet affection and encouragement, her kind 
words which haunt me even as I write — so good — so con- 
soling — so loving. Days and nights rolled on, perhaps 
they were long — we thought them short. Every even- 
ing to me was one of joy and gladness, of innumerable 
blessings, of beautiful thoughts and never to be forgot- 
ten pleasures. We walked in the delightful little groves 
which surrounded the house, and picked beautiful flow- 
ers, while the moon danced with delight, and to us 
seemed to light up the heavens with an unusual bril- 
liancy. So it went on. But time to me was precious 
and uncertain. I knew not the day, nor the hour, nay, 
the minute I might be summoned to headquarters, and 
sent back into the stockade. To break my parole and 
escape, if caught would prove my ruin, for the punish- 
ment was death and unavoidable. Indeed, I had no 
confidence in an attempt to escape ; I had tried it be- 
fore, and all my endeavors proved futile. Besides, the 
dangers that would necessarily have to be faced now in 
such an undertaking, were greater than at any pre"»^ious 
time. " To be or not to be," that was the question that 
in my mind surmounted all others. Was she to be 
mine or not? She knew that I loved her, — I thought 
she loved me ; and at last, with an unfaltering, sanguine 
hope, yet slightly intermingled with fear, I made known 
to her the emotions of my heart, told her of my love, 
and asked her to be mine. Her cheeks glowed and her 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOREKCE. 255 

eyes, which spoke volumes, sparkled like two precious 
diamonds as she looked into mine. A moment's hesita 
tion for deliberation and delicate thought followed, 
whilst I waited with breathless emotion, till the word 
"yes " dropped from her ruby lips, when I clasped my 
arms around her snow-white neck, our lips met, and I 
thanked God that I had loved and won so precious a 
jewel, and implored his blessing and protection. 

There are times in the history of all men, when they 
have more cause to be happy and contented than at 
others. Even sometimes amid great sorrow, poverty, mis- 
fortune and danger, their fondest hopes are realized, 
their greatest fears made joyful. There is nothing like 
patience, endurance, hope. God sometimes tries men, 
even as iron is tried in the burning furnace, to test their 
faith, their love. Eemember we are never overburdened, 
God does not impose upon man more than his strength 
will bear. Only remain firm and faithful, and even 
though sometimes it be in the last hour, relief, like the 
good angel, will come to alleviate jour sufferings, to 
strengthen your mind, to breath new life and hope into 
every pore of your aching heart, to lighten your sad, 
depressed spirits, and raise the heavy weight of disap- 
pointment and misfortune from off j^our soul, that you 
may praise God in thankfulness and sincerity. To me, 
this was the happiest of all happy moments in my young- 
life. My heart was at rest, my mind was filled with a 
thousand brilliant hopes and anticipations such as only 
a heart that loves can realize, while I felt within the calm- 
ness of my very soul that : 

"Were my whole life to come one heap of troubles, 
The pleasure of this moment would suffice, 
And sweeten all my griefs with its remembrance." 



256 eOHTHERN PRISONS ; 

How could I feel otherwise? I was a prisoner of 
war, shut out from all communication with the outer 
world, so that if I had a million of friends none could 
have helped me, because I was far beyond their reach, 
surrounded upon all sides by the enemy, who hated the 
very ground upon which I walked. But Miss "Seymour 
was my friend, and " a friend in need is a friend indeed." 
Such are few in this world, and especially under such 
trying circumstances. People do not think half so 
much of us as we imagine. She was true, even to the 
last, and may God bless her as do I. Friendless, and 
she befriended me ; hated by my enemy, she loved me ; 
in hunger and want, she fed me ; in moments of utter 
despair, she cheered me on. Is not this consoling, ac- 
cording to the highest Christian standard % Is it not 
charity combined with love and affection in the truest 
sense of our duty \ Yes, such deeds are noble and gen- 
erous, they are the life of Christianity, and the light and 
guiding star of civilization. They raise up before the 
eyes of mankind, like great mountains of precious mar- 
ble or gold ; they are recorded in golden letters in the 
eternal book of life, and even the angels in heaven re- 
joice in triumph at their lustre, their brilliancy, their 
sweetness, and they stand as imperishable monuments 
to the glory of women. Such deeds mount to heaven 
without appeal ; the arm of the giver is made strong, 
their footpaths blessed, and it calls down upon their 
heads innumerable blessings. When on their deathbeds 
the good angel stands firmly by their sides w^atching, so 
that when life is extinct, they may carry them safely to 
an everlasting reward. During all the delicious hours 
that we spent here together in the evening, nothing dis- 
turbed our delight, and even "the roofs with joy re- 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEEOHSTE OF FLOREE'CE. 25') 

sounded," as we whiled away the time with loving 
endearments and inspiring felicity. To me the hated pri- 
son ceased to be a terror, and from this moment I 
thought of naught else but her who had not only saved 
my life, but with kind words, true womanly affection 
and love, had caused it to bloom afresh, and made my 
hap^Diness almost complete. Josie was not only good, 
pure at heart, and beautiful as Venus, but she possessed 
the wisdom of Minerva, and was as tender as the god- 
dess of love. 

Even to this day her sweet, consoling words, prey 
upon my mind, and I sometimes listen and strive to hear 
them again. That voice, so charming, so enchanting, 
falls softly upon my ear, like the sweet music of heaven 
in early morn, and with a magic power tliat I- :!lf; me to 
exclaim, in the fullness of my soul : 

" Fair m.iid, when such a soul as thine is born, 
The morning stars their ancient music make." 

Of course circumstances would not permit of our 
being united at once, so that our hopes all rested in the 
future. Josie, however, promised Avithout reserve, to 
become my wife, and, as a sweet assurance of her affec- 
tion, confided to me that she had loved me, even from 
the moment of our first meeting at Atlanta, which love 
had been deepened by what she had seen of me on the 
oc^.asions of our subsequent meetings. For my own 
part, I resolved, and confided to her my resolution, that 
I would so cherish this sweet girl that no harm or 
unhappiness should ever come near her with my con- 
currence, or which I could possibly prevent. 

To be sure, I was not possessed of a fortune, through 
which I might lavish upon Josie all the comforts of life 
33 



258 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; 

that money would purchase, neither could I travel the 
world over to show her its grandeur — its nothingness. 
My means were limited, yet I cared not, for I was 
young, healthy, strong, and devoted to her. I had a 
brain and two hands to work with, and I hoped by 
honest industry, energy, and economy, together with 
Josie's love and encouragement, to soon place myself in 
business, so that we could live comfortably. True hap- 
piness, however, is not derived from or found in money 
alone, it springs up from the heart, and love is its foun- 
dation. Contentment is the only vein in which happi- 
ness exists, and there is no contentment where love is 
not to be found. If we launch out, however, upon the 
broad ocean of opinion, we find happiness in wealth 
alone, but there is a wide difference between opinion and 
reality, and experience teaches us that the former is a 
mere superstitition, while the latter is all truth. There 
is nothing like true happiness. A mind at peace, no 
trouble, no sorrow, no harsh words, no dissipation, no 
jealousy, no craving for Avhat is out of our reach, no dis- 
appointment, no revenge — our hopes are not of this 
world, but in the next ; our faith is in God alone ; we 
think but little of the perishable goods of this world ; 
we delight in works of charity ; we love our neighbor as 
ourselves ; we like to visit the sick, the poor, for they 
are God' s people ; we like the working man because he 
toils honestly ; this happy state — how beautiful the 
thought — the feelings of those who experience it ; the 
whole countenance wears the mantle of good humor, 
the face a continuous smile, while the inward soul is 
launched in a sea of flame, burning with Im^e. Happi- 
ness sometimes develops itself by charity, kind words, 
affection ; sometimes through such an outporing of joy. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOIXE OF FLOEETnTCE. 259 

that it enchants all surrounding it — even the weary 
and broken-hearted forget themselves in its presence, 
and it draws them into such a strain of laughter, or good 
nature, that they, too, are made happier. My circum- 
stances were well known and not misunderstood. ' My 
heart, my love was Josie' s ; my every action and word 
were care and kindness ; my every thought tended to 
the gratification of her wishes ; and had it been neces- 
sary I could have sacrificed my life to make her's 
happy. 

Knowing that escape was a great work, and the cau- 
tion and preparations necessary to make it successful, I 
refused that evening to make any definite arrangements 
for its attempt, though Josie earnestly besought me to 
fly at once and take her with me, saying that she could 
not longer endure separation from me, and the thought 
of my being in the hands of the rebels. I pacified her, 
however, by loving words, and finally persuaded her to 
wait as patiently as she could until I should have leisure 
to think the matter over carefully and fully prepare my 
plans. 

The nearest point to us of the Union lines was 160 
miles distant, and every avenue to tliot e lines was cov- 
ered with rebel guards. The only chance that to me 
seemed feasible was to attempt a passage through the 
unsettled country, avoiding all highways and moving 
through the woods as much as possible. To think of 
taking my darling with me over such a route, liable to 
meet swamps, which had to be traversed, and exposed to 
all kinds of fatigue and hardship, was fearful in the 
extreme to me, and I at once determined that it was net 
for a moment to be thought of. I left her about ten 



260 SOTJTHEKN PEISOKS ; 

o'clock, the usual hour, and sought my humble quarters, 
musing on the probabilities of escape, and vainly endea- 
voring to form some feasible plan which should lead my 
love and myself to liberty. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOniTE OF ELOEENCE. 261 



CHAPTER XX. 

REMOVAL TO FLORENCE. 

The Grave Diggers Escape and are Recaptured. — The " Spread Eagle 
Stocks." — The Dead Line. — Fearful Misery among the Prisoners. 
— I Again Escape and reach Miss Seymour's Home. — Our Meet- 
ing. — I take up my Residence in the Negro Cabins. — The Servant 
Bob. 

An hour like this is worth a thousand passed 
In pomp and ease — 'tis present to the last ! 
Years glide away untold — 'tis still the same ; 
As fresh, as fair as on the day it came ! 



My difficulties were rfiiidered less next morning by 
an order which was received for a large number of pris- 
oners to prepare at once to remove to Florence, S. C, 
the terrible condition of Andersonville having at last 
excited the apprehensions of the Eebels themselves, and 
they also fearing that it might be assailed by Sherman, 
who was rapidly nearing Atlanta. I visited my love 
the same evening and told her of my destined removal. 
She welcomed it gladly as she had been desired b}^ her 
father (who it will be remembered, lived near Florence) 
to return home, and we should then still be near each 
other. We agreed that I should go forward with the 
first collection of prisoners, and as soon as I reached 
Florence she would devise means of seeing me. I could 
then certainly make my escape to her father's mansion, 



362 SOUTHERIN" PEISOITS ; 

and once tliere slie would care for me, and I could 
remain in quiet until I could linally make my escape in 
company witli herself. She gave me her blessing, a 
sweet, good-by kiss, and we parted, hoping soon to meet 
again. Distance, "they say," lends enchantment, but 
not so with me, for, as we parted, a faint, cold fear 
thrilled through my veins, and as she retired into the 
house and was lost to my view, I thought of those lines 
BO beautifully written — and turning my eyes upon that 
famous prison — I wept : 

"When forc'd to part from those we love, 

Though sure to meet to-morrow ; 
We yet a kind of anguish prove 

And feel a touch of sorrow. 
But oh ! what words can paint the fears, 

"When from those friends we sever, 
Perhaps to part for months — for years — 

Perhaps to part forever." 

The next morning I went to Captain Wirtz, as did also 
quite a number of my companions, and told him I was 
sick and totally unfit to perform work such as digging 
graves, but he refused most positively to release me 
from the duty. 

Having in this brutal manner refused to grant us 
leave to return wdthin the camp and relieve us from our 
parole, all the men engaged in grave digging determined 
to escape, and, accordingly, that night the whole crowd, 
numbering forty in all, made their escape. They got off, 
however, with but little start before their absence was 
discovered and pursuit commenced, bloodhounds, cav- 
alry and infantry all joining in the pursuit. The conse- 
quence was that the next day every man was retaken 




The Spread.^agle ^tocks 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOI"N^E OF FLOEElSrCE. 263 

and severely punished. For myself I was placed in the 
"Spread Eagle Stocks" for twelve hours, during which 
period I very nearly perished. These stocks were, first 
a beam with holes for the ankles, which were fastened 
in, the victim standing upright, then the neck was fast- 
ened in another, the body being stretched up just as far 
as was possible without pulling out the joints ; the arms 
were in the same way stretched out to their utmost limit 
and fastened in side beams. It will be obvious that 
after a few hours this torture became frightful, and it is 
a pitiable fact that many Union soldiers died while 
undergoing this horrible barbarity. At the end of 
twelve hours, and wiien nearly dead, I was released, 
and by Wirtz's order sent back into camp. 

On my return to the prison proj)er at Andersonville, 
I found that a great change for the worse had taken 
place since my exit. , The men had grown fearfully pale, 
cadaverous and ghastly. They M^ere famished", sick and 
the prey of devouring anxiety, so that they more 
nearly resembled ghosts than human beings. It was 
clear that only a small part of them could survive the 
next few months, and many grew reckless, so that the 
famous dead line had no longer any terrors for them, 
as they preferred to perish by the bullet rather than by 
an inevitable death of sickness or hunger. The feel- 
ings of many of the men in reference to this notorious 
Dead Line is thus expressed by a New IIampshii*e poet, 
one of our volunteers : 



264 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

"THE DEJ^D LIISTE" 

AT ANDEESONVILLE 

Prom his box the rebel soldier watch'd his sad and weary foe, 
While the moon in solemn silence seem'd unwilling far to go, 
As if it did wish to whisper to the sad and weary there, 
How it smiled o'er Western prairies and New England valleys fair; 
And the starving son looked on it, and the weeping mother too, 
One at home and one in prison, but their hearts together drew, 
And the pining husband saw it, and his fond and longing wife. 
One looked from her chamber sleepless, one was trying to hold life ; 
Oh ! the moon was brightly beaming as it on its wAj did roam, 
And it lit the soldier's prison and it lit his far-off home, 
Wife and molher ask'd beneath it, where's my husband and my boy, 
Months have pass'd since I heard from them, and shall time my hopea 

destroy ? 
Son and husband ask'd beneath it, where's the mother and the wile ? 
Do they know now how I suTer ? how I m loth to part with life? 
Do they know the peril of it, if we leave this dwarfish pine. 
And without a moment's warning put our feet on the Dead Line ? 

Distant friends, how we have suffered for want of food and clothes, 
How we've daily pined with hunger, but the God of Heaven know^ 
And how we have had no shelter from the sun and from the storm, 
Ah ! it sent to yonder grave-yard, many a once stout noble form. 
Ah ! we've seen the light of hope leaving many a once bright eye, 
And wfe've seen the strong and robust turn to skeletons and die, 
And we knew why they were numbered with the cold and silent dead 
Was because they had no shelter, and ate filth instead of bread, 
And we heard how the distant fond ones, from the Golden State to 

Maine, 
Send thetn blankets to wrap round them, send them food too to sustain, 
But the minions of Jeff Davis robb d the starving pris'ners there, 
While their chivalry they boasted, and their leader form'd a prayer, 
'Twas a prayer for aid from Heaven on the Traitor's cherished plan, 
As if God himself could sanction all the ways they murdered man. 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 265 

As if he could look with favor on the fiends who there combine 
To cause famine and exposure to march some to the Dead Line. 

And why should the traitor soldier be too cautibus ere he fires ? 
And why should he loudly challenge, when so glowing his desires ? 
And why would he not aim steady when he gets a leader's praise, 
And if thus he shoots a Yankee, has a furlough thirty days ? 
Other nights they may be dismal, and the line may pass from view, 
Still the blood-hounds tramed to watching, watch the weak and heln- 

less too. 
And the sentinels are knowing that his food has made him so. 
That his stomach is disorder'd and his face portrays his woe, 
And for him they have no pity, for their hearts like rivers freeze, 
Though he suffers from starvation and the inroads of disease, 
Still the glimmering hope is cherished 'mid the many dangers there. 
That again he may be knowing a fond wife or mother^s care, 
And he ponders as he wanders, Nature does assert its right, 
And each sentinel well knoweth the poor pris'ner's dreadful plight, 
But oh ! nothing say unto him, from him hide the mark of pine. 
For you'll never get a furlough if you warn him from the line. 

Hark ! there is a scream of terror, traitor minions heed it not. 
For it's not of much importance, but a Yankee soldier shot I 
Not a fence was there to warn him, and the marks were hard to view, 
But a "reb'' has got a furlough and a pris'ner's missing too ! 
See another squad of Yankees shriv'ring by that dwarfish pine, 
How we wish when we were guarding some would try to cross the line, 
'Tis a wonder they don't try it when they have to sufier so, 
And it is our ^ ader's study how to starve or freeze each foe, 
Or that he may not be useful in the foeman's ranks again. 
And the pale and tott'ring " Yankees " tell the hope is not in vain, 
While they from their Northern prisons stouter send our pris'ners back 
With no crushed hopes in their bosoms and no blood-hounds on theii, 

track. 
And to keep their hard-earned money they did not in vain beseech, 
Nor wh«n wishing for an apple pay a dollar bill for each, 



266 souTHEKif PRisoisrs ; 

And no Federal had a furlough to maice nopes the brighter shine, 
'Till he shot a helpless foemen some five feet from the Dead Line. 

Who'll forget the rude old wagons, in which they our dead convey'd, 
And the loathesome, shabby manner, in which brothers there were laid ? 
Who'll forget the same rude wagons, in which they convey'd our dead, 
After served another purpose — that of bringing us our bread, — 
That of bringing us our " corn-cob " — which they cruelly call'd meal, 
While the life-blood from the soldiers it would like a robber steal ? 
Who'll forget the putrid " beef-heads " twenty men on one to dine, 
Peas in which huge worms were gathered as if drawn in battle-line ? 
Who'll forget the black swamp water and the crocodiles near by ? 
Who'll forget the chains so heavy in which foes let pris'ners die ? 
Who'll forget the smoky pine-fires round which clustered " heart-sick 

bands," 
Speaking of the friends they treasured while they look'd like " contra- 
bands ?" 
Who'll forget the rampant villains saying we deserv'd our lot, 
And the " unknown " who were buried in the trench — a fearful spot? — 
Who'll forget the countless horrors, there's no book the tenth could tell, 
For Camp Sumpter nothing lacketh to make it The Earthly Hell! 

See the grave-yard yonder swelling with the prisoners paroled, 

Let us trust their noble spirits have gone to their Savior's fold I 

Ah ! how many forms were murdered in a cold and shocking way. 

Can their treatment be forgotten while our souls are in their clay? 

It needs something more than human to forget what brave men bore, 

To forget the grave-yard swelling and the hearts that suffer sore, 

To forget the noble comrades, who did perish midst our foes, 

For the want of food and shelter, while the Rebels stole their clothes, 

To forget the horrid treatment mortal man must feel to know. 

There's no human comprehension that can realize the woe, 

But be tried as foes have tried us, fearing that we would survive, 

And you'll wonder that a mortal left that earthly hell alive I 

There were many — many spirits — left Camp Sumpter and took flight, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. * 267 

As if they had wings of angels, to the land of life and light, 
Many who were often longing they coulH leave the dwarfish pine, 
And the angels bade them welcome, far outside of the Dead Line- 

The above lines are beautiful, because of the truth 
they contain, yet tliey do not begin to describe the 
sufferings that our heroic soldiers passed through or 
endured. Here were upwards of thirty thousand men, 
prisoners of war, locked up in a rebel prison, shut 
out from all society, deprived of even the privilege 
of breathing the exhileratinaj fresh air, hated and des- 
pised by half a nation because of their fidelity to the 
Union, deprived of nourishment enough to sustain life ; 
"starved," with no shelter from the cold or storms, or 
from the almost unbearable burning heat of a Southern 
sun ; living in an atmosphere stilling, pestilent, sicken- 
ing, and poisonous beyond all imagination ; surrounded 
by a stockade of unhewn logs, with guards perched 
upon the top thirsting for the blood of their wretched 
victims, treated worse than savages or brutes ; wretched 
in the extreme, some rotting by inches with disease, 
some so weak from long imprisonment and cruel 
treatment that they were totally unable to walk. When 
a prisoner reached that degree of wretchedness and suf- 
fering, the sight was mournful and heartrending to be- 
hold. The prison ground was literally covered and alive 
with vermin, and some prisoners were actually eaten 
alive by lice and maggots. The pitiful cries of the starv- 
ing prisoners for bread were fearful, and the unearthly 
and inhuman sound of the dying man' s voice was mourn- 
ful and sickening to hear— sometimes crying for help, at 
other times, while in a sort of a delirium, talking to a 
loving wife at home, or a mother or father, askino- of 
them theii- last blessing ; others would mention the name 



268 SOUTHERN PRISOT^S; 

of their sweetheart or a dear friend, but to them, alas, 
no help came until death relieved them of their suffering. 
Others, discouraged, and having lost all hope of relief, 
unwillingly gave up the ghost ; others, young and deli- 
cately constituted, were soon overcome by that terriblf^ 
life destroyer, hunger. Indeed it was here that every 
form of human misery and suffering could be daily wit- 
nessed. Some with one foot eaten off by gangrene, 
others unable to move, with the dropsy, some minus a 
hand or an arm, some with large sores all over their 
body, some, upon being taken down suddenly with dis- 
ease, lost their senses and became raving maniacs until 
death. Here is a prisoner looking fondly upon a photo- 
graph, going closer to him I observed a. woman' s facft, 
" sweet as an angel's." He also had another picture of 
a little child ; I supposed, of course, they were his wife 
and child, his trembling hands yet held them up to his 
gaze, and as he looked fondly at them, and kissed them, 
he uttered words, but they were not audible, large tears 
rolled down his pale, ghastly, sunken cheeks, and his 
eyes that had grown dim with suffering and anxiety over 
those loved ones, rolled fiercely in their sunken sockets, 
as if they would leave them, a few moments more pain 
and misery, a deep, hollow-like moan, and all was over 
— death had relieved him of his suffering. Yet this is 
only one case of which there were thousands. Never 
before has the world known or history recorded such 
hellish deeds as were here perpetrated, neither has the 
world ever gazed upon nature so fearfully mangled, so 
basely deibrmed or wretched. Would to God that I 
could but give you even a faint idea of what Anderson- 
ville really was, with its sickening, horrifying, pitiful 
specimeus of living death ; but I cannot ; there are no 



OR, JOSIB, THE HEKOIlSrE OE FLORENCTE. 269 

urotds in the English language capable of convejdng 
to yon the reality. In this way I might go on endlessly 
'^peating the suffering of our heroic soldiers, and the 
;>nielties inflicted upon them by a fiendish, malicious, 
and barbarous enemy. But is not this sufllcient ? Have 
I not said enough for all to understand ? Can you not 
realize the suffering, the enormity of the wicked deeds 
and high cnmes of a brutal enemy, the insults offered to 
thousands of brave Union soldiers, who had faced the 
fierce storms of forty bloody battles in defence of their 
country. But the heart grows sick and weary of relating 
these atrocious deeds, and I will, therefore, leave the 
reader to his own imagination as to the rest. Indeed, it 
is only those who have passed through the terrible 
ordeal who can fully appreciate its horrors, the reality of 
which can never be effaced from my memory. 

The next day the first five hundred were ordered to 
be sent at once to Florence, S. C. ; when I was returned 
to the camp, however I was placed in the tenth hundred, 
and was thus apparently condemned to a still further 
sojourn in hateful Andersonville, unless I could devise 
some plan by which I could get myself transferred to 
Another hundred. After some inquiries, cautiously 
made, as to who were going, I learned that a John 
Ryan, belonging to the second hundred, had died and 
had not yet been reported to the sergeant in charge. A 
scheme at once occurred to me, and I instantly got ready, 
and when the name of John Ryan was called I stepped 
boldly forward into iiis place and went out with the 
squad, the officer engaged in detailing the men not know- 
ing me personally. At nine o'clock in the morning we 
were under way On a train of cars, and as they moved 
off slowly, I took a last good look upon that fatal pris- 



270 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

on. All the bitter memories of the past rushed wildly to 
my brain, and I recalled with a feeling such as no human 
mind could well conceive, heart feel, or language por- 
tray, the bitter sufferings, the unceasing pangs of hun- 
ger and cold, the heart-trying moments of the past. I 
looked upon those "stocks," stained with the blood of our 
heroic dead ; upon those instruments of torture the iron 
balls so often carried by the sick, fainting, prisoner. I 
looked upon those massive doors of that gloomy, dismal 
stockade, and thought how often they had been closed 
against hope, life and liberty. I looked into those 
dark, underground tunnels, and saw the weary prisoner 
digging his way to liberty, with a desperate energy that 
was pitiful to behold. I viewed the interior of the 
stockade. It was as silent as if breathless, and there I 
saw hundreds of loved ones perishing in their own filth, 
without aid or consolation. It seemed like the tomb — 
and angels must have wept over the heart-rending cries 
of its starving occupants. I looked into the ever vigi- 
lant eyes of those blood thirsty sentinels ; and I saw 
the hopeless prisoner as he crossed the fatal "line" and 
perished from the bullet shot from a coward' s gun, and 
I asked myself is humanity truly dead, is there no such 
thing as pity — has God forgotten the noble heroes of 
our Republic — are they all doomed to perish ? And I 
looked upon that lonely grave-yard in the dim distance, 
which contained its army of dead martyrs. And last of 
all, I saw Wirtz, whose pale features were plainly 
stamped with the bitter remorse of a murderer. I of- 
fered up a parting prayer for my surviving comrades, 
called down God' s blessing upon the dead, and with a 
last fond look upon that green mound of earth I re- 
peated these words : 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 271 

" Farewell I the early dews that fall 
' Upon that grass-grown-bed, 

'. Are like the thoughts that now recall 

The image of the dead. 

A blessing hallows thy dark cell — 

I will not stay to weep — Farewell." 

We supposed, of course, that we were going to Flor- 
ence, South Carolina. It turned out, however, that for 
some reason or other our destination was changed and 
we were sent to Savannah, Georgia, a change which dis- 
gusted me exceedingly, as it was taking me away from 
Miss Seymour, instead of carrying me towards her. 
When we reached that point, however, the authorities 
did not take us in charge, hut forwarded us at once to 
Florence. We reached there about three o'clock in 
the afternoon of the following day. At this station 
abundant opportunity was offered for escaping, and 
during the first three days no less than one hundred 
prisoners disappeared, the majority never to return 
again. As for myself, I had no desire to escape at 
this time, but simply to again see my darling, and plan 
some attempt by which I might carry her away with me. 

I soon learned where Miss Seymour resided, being a 
distance of about fourteen miles from the camp, and 
determined at once to get away from the prison and 
make straight for her house. The very next day an 
opportunity offered. A squad of men was each day 
detailed to bring water from a cave in the rocks some 
distance off, there being none in camp, and a spring 
there falling from out an orifice in the rocks. I chanced 
to be among the squad detailed, and noticing that the 
sergeant did not count us, I resolved to take advantage 
of the darkness which completely shadowed the back 



272 SOUTHEKN PBISONS ; 

of the cavern, and after the water was drawn and the 
squad ready to return, to remain in the gloom and trust 
to stay there unobserved, until I could hastily emerge 
and make with safety a speedy exit. The scheme 
worked to perfection. Though the Rebel sergeant 
examined the cave a little, he failed to notice me, and 
within a few minutes after the squad left, I came forth 
and swiftly plunged into the woods. I ran through them 
nearly three miles without stopping, and walked four 
miles that day without rest, fearing pursuit. 

For the night, I stopped in a sweet potato field, on 
the vegetables of which I made a hearty lunch. After 
resting a short time I pushed forward and traveled all 
that night, through swamps and brush heaps, and over 
the roughest roads that I had ever experienced in my 
life. Early in the morning, I arrived at what I conjec- 
tured to be the mansion of Miss Seymour's father. It 
was a beautiful residence, built in the true Southern 
style, surrounded by beautiful trees, and everything 
about it betokening generous hospitality and wealth. 

Looking about the premises, not far from the neat 
negro cabins, not wishing to be observed from the house, 
I" at last saw a negro servant and asked him if that was 
Mr. Seymour' s place. He answered in the affirmative, 
and, after some other conversation, he told me he must 
go, as he had to saddle the horse of Miss Seymour for 
her morning ride. I gladly excused him, and, feigning 
to go away myself, I hastily moved into a piece of woods 
skirting the highway, and there behind a large oak, I 
awaited my darling' s approach. As she drew n^ar me, 
I stepped gently from my concealment, so as not to 
alarm her, and in a moment my love was dismounted 
and again in my arms. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 2/.:i 

I narrated to Josie full particulars concerning my 
present situation, and my plans and projects, and, it 
being evident that for tlie present partial concealment 
was necessary, she recommended that my temporary 
quarters should be taken up in one of the best of the 
negro cabins, which were generally comfortable, and 
the one selected for my use was especially convenient 
and pleasant. There were a long row of these huts 
situated at a distance of two or three hundred yards 
from the mansion, and all neatl}^ whitewashed, as well 
as surrounded by little patches of gardens, which were 
carefully and successfully cultivated by the negroes, 
who raised the vegetables required for their support, 
and usually maintained, each, a little stock of poultry. 
The meat consumed by them was furnished by the pro- 
prietor of the plantation, and generally consisted of 
bacon, which was raised in great quantities at the South, 
and was almost invariably of excellent quality, partic- 
ular attention being paid to the cultivation of corn, 
which constituted the material on which hogs were there 
fattened, and which rendered the meat of very solid and 
superior quality. The bacon was salted in large quan- 
tities by the planters, and in this form generally used, 
though at intervals fresh meats were served to the 
negroes, yet bacon, salt or fresh, was the usual article 
of meat diet. 

The negro quarters were also beautified by flowers in 
the gardens, and by shade trees, which were plentifully 
scattered over the grounds that were devoted to resi- 
dence purposes, whether of the proprietor or the ser- 
vants. On the fields devoted to uses of cultivation there 
were of course few trees, the space generally being en- 
tirely open, and employed for cotton, rice and corn, on 
35 



274 southeej^ prisons ; 

the two first of whicli the planters relied mainly for the 
money product of their plantations, while to the corn 
crop was credited the production of a staple article of 
food and material for the sustenance of stock, cattle and 
horses being raised and maintained to a considerable 
extent in addition to hogs. 

My quarters embraced two rooms, one of which 1 
used as a sitting room, and the other as a bed room. 
My benefactress had most kindly provided me with 
every convenience and comfort which could be crowded 
into no greater compass, cosy and yet elegant furniture, 
embracing easy chairs, so , dear to a man who for years 
had buffeted the storms of war, and who now was 
enjoying almost entire leisure, and therefore was neces- 
sarily condemned to lead, much of the time, a life of 
seclusion, and was thrown much upon hunself for plea- 
sure and occupation. There were cool curtains shutting 
out the sun, and books, engravings, and a host of little 
elegances and comforts which so greatly add to the 
enjoyments of a home. 

Josie had also sent me by Bob a new suit of clothing, 
both over and under, which were not only a great con- 
venience to me, but would have been almost a positive 
necessity A box of cigars, and some other creature 
comforts, so dear to a soldier used to the privations, and 
even miseries of camp life, were also added. Indeed, I 
considered that for many reasons I had truly fallen into 
pleasant places on many accounts, not the least of which 
was the opportunity it afibrded me of renewing and 
making far more intimate my acquaintance with Miss 
Sejnuour, which I now might reasonably expect would 
be continued, and become closer and dearer than ever 
before, unless some misfortune occurred to us through 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREIS'CE. 275 

the intervention of the Rebels again, which did not seem 
likely at that time at any event, or without some warn- 
ing. I say this because I had been placed by Josie 
under the especial charge of her own servant, Bob, 
and he had oeen given particular instructions to watch 
over me with the utmost care, and see that I came to no 
harm. With this view he took pains to be on the look- 
out carefully for the coming of any parties who might 
be dangerous ta my security, or inform the Confeder- 
ates of my whereabouts. Of any search for me by them 
with a view to my apprehension, there seemed little like- 
lihood, as the country in the vicinity of the prison from 
which I had escaped had undoubtedly been thoroughly 
beaten at the time of my taking leave, and the house of 
Miss Seymour, the daughter of a wealthy Southern 
planter, supposed to be thoroughly devoted to the 
Southern cause, seemed the last place in the world 
where I would be likely to seek shelter, as from the 
Rebel officers' view, I could reasonably have expected 
nothing less than at once to be giyen up to the Confed- 
erate authorities. 

The servant Bob was accustomed to follow his young 
mistress in all her riding excursions, first having groomed 
and saddled her horse, and almost at once after my arri- 
val on the plantation he became aware of the relation 
which the being whom I loved and myself sustained to 
each other, and with that attachment and faithful watch- 
fulness which distinguished him, as they did very many 
of the house servants, or the petted slaves of the South, 
he obeyed the instructions of Josie to the letter, wait- 
ing on my wants, caring for my apartments, and attend- 
ing Josie and myself whenever we went out together. 
From his position, too, he exercised no little influence 



276 SOFTHERIS^ PRISOT^^S ; 

over all the other "people," as they were called npoB 
the plantation, and took such measures as secured gen- 
eral watchfulness as to what strangers might at any 
time arrive in the neighborhood, yet without exercising 
such plans of surveillance as might have excited any 
suspicions. 

Bob had grown grey in the sei-vice of Col. Seymour, 
and was possessed of a vast amount of information con- 
cerning the plantation, its. owner, the neighbors, the 
character and peculiarities of the vicinity, and was well 
instructed in reference to the present condition of the 
South, so far, at least, as related to the state of the 
interior, while he had, too, gathered not a little knowl- 
ed^re to^:!cl)ing the present state of the war going on, its 
likelihood to turn out disastrous to the South, and the 
probable abolition of slavery through its instrumentality. 
Although he had been himself a petted servant, still he 
was fully informed that slavery was in iiself an 
unmitigated curse to any race, and looked with all the 
longings of any of his oppressed people to the time 
when bondage should everywhere be broken throughout 
the great land, and the country be indeed that of the 
free. In a short time after I became domiciled at the 
mansion. I grew somewhat intimate with Bob, and 
from short conversations with him at first, I soon learned 
to look upon him with interest, and to talk with hira 
fully and freely, eliciting much information on topics 
which were beginning to have a deeper interest for me 
each day. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEEITCE. 277 



CHAPTER XXI. 

AN EARTHLY PARADISE. 

My Residence at the Mansion. — The Loyal League.-— Sweet Inter- 
views and Moonlight Rides. 

If it were now to die, 

'Twere now to be most happy ; for I fear 

My soul hath her content so absolute. 

That not another comfort like to this 

Succeeds in unknown late 

ShaXrspeare. 

Very shortly after I was installed in my new quarters, 
Miss Seymour paid me a visit. Of course I did not pre- 
sume to visit lier at the house of her father, from whom 
we were making every effort to conceal my presence ; 
and Josie, therefore, with the true, unbounded love 
which disregards in such circumstances, scruples which 
would ordinarily constrain a girl in her treatment of a 
lover, visited me often at my cabin. On the occasion of 
the first visit she told me that her father was preparing 
to visit Richmond, and intended to go by the evening 
train, leaving the house for Florence, the nearest railroad 
station, about 5 p. m ; that during the day she should 
be obliged to assist him at the mansion in m.aking prejD- 
arations, and should accompany him to the depot ; that 
it would be impossible for her to see me again during 
the day, and it might be too late if she waited until she 
returned. It was therefore agreed upon that any further 



278 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

meeting on the day in question was not to be thought 
of; but she invited me with the utmost kindness and 
graciousness to come to the mansion on the next morn- 
ing, if I should receive from Bob information that her 
father had completed his preparations and had actually 
left the vicinity. It was with a heart burning with love 
and gratitude that I thanked her for the great kindness 
and courtesy which she had continually shown me dur- 
ing my whole captivity, than which no greater could 
have been manifested towards a lover of wealth and 
power, whereas, I was but an escaped prisoner, entirely 
dependent upon her bounty at the present time, though 
I fervently assured her that if I ever succeeded in reach- 
ing the North, I hoped with her precious self, no care 
or tenderness should be wanting on my part to render 
her happy or her lot a fortunate one. Mutual protesta- 
tions of affection followed, in which each one of us 
pledged to the other unalterable constancy and the 
deepest love, and she at last tore herself from my em- 
brace and hastened to the house of her father. 

After her departure, I turned my attention to the 
work of improving my personal appearance, which had 
again been necessarily neglected. I set Bob at the busi- 
ness of cutting my hair, which had grown very long, 
and to the task of renovating me generally, and I must 
confess that under his skilful hands my appearance was 
so changed and my looks so improved that I could 
scarcely credit my own reflection in a mirror. A refresh- 
ing night' s rest, upon a bed which presented to me the 
first idea of a luxurious sleeping couch that I had en- 
joyed since my entrance into the army, completed the 
work of regeneration, and I was able in the morning to 
present myself before Miss Seymour, appearing like a 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOITTE OF FLOEEITCE. 279 

gentleman, I trust both in looks and manners, she ex- 
pressing fully as mnch surprise at my altered physique 
as I had felt at gazing at my vision in the mirror. She 
paid me the rather doubtful compliment of assuring me 
that now that I was dressed like a gentleman, I was quite 
good looking The season had now advanced to August 
12th, 1864, and the weather was unusually fine, and par- 
ticularly delightful in the evening, though during the 
other portions of the day it was intensely warm. 

At this point in my narrative it occurs to me that I 
have yet given no detailed description of the mansion of 
Mr. Seymour, or of the lovely girl who constituted its 
chief ornament. The mansion was situated upon a 
slightly inclined piece of ground which rose gradually 
up from the level lands lying before it, but which, at the 
point where the mansion stood, was fully four feet above 
the general level of the plantation On three sides it 
was surrounded with luxuriant trees, and on the lawn 
in its front were fragrant gardens of beautiful flowers, 
which through the watchfulness of their fair mistress 
were maintained in the most complete perfection, and 
were a triumph of floriculture, though this result had 
by no means been brought about without the assistance 
of zealous gardeners, all negroes, however. 

Tile mansion itself partook of the form and character 
usual in the South, being of frame, two stories in height, 
and having verandas on three sides. The windows were 
long and large, allowing the air to circulate freely during 
the heated season, and the whole effect of the house was 
generous and beautiful, in color being a rich stone color, 
which had the effect of tempering the rays of the san. 
The interior was furnished with elegance, but again 
there was reference to the heat which xirevailed during so 



280 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

great a part of the season, and the furniture, hangings, 
etc., were of cool colors, and seemed to promise, as they 
effected, relief from the glare and oppression of so many 
burning days. The parlor was hung with costly paint- 
ings and engravings, filled with easy inviting chairs and 
sofas, and I have in it passed perhaps the happiest 
moments of my life. 

Of Josie I have hesitated, and still do hesitate 
to attempt a description, because I feel how imperfectly 
I can convey to the reader an adequate impression of 
the loveliness of the young girl, who had so entirely 
enthralled me. Yet the vision of her beauty, and the 
nameless charms which surrounded her in those early 
days, are subjects on which my heart loves to dwell, 
and which I must fain strive to picture to 'my readers, 
even though in a faint degree. She was of about the 
medium height, and of a form that, though elegant and 
graceful, was yet beautifully moulded, and promised 
to bloom into a glorious womanhood. Her face was 
oval, and of the pure olive, that more often in the South 
than in the North characterizes beautiful women, though 
rare even there. Through the delicate warm skin, the 
blood mounted in moments of pleasure or excitement, 
and the blushes were as beautiful and vivid as ever 
painted the cheeks of an English blonde. The eyes were 
deep liquid brown, looking often so truly, so honestly, 
so lovingly into mine. Ah ! how well I remember the 
dear, tender eyes. Yet at a tale of wrong, of injury to 
the unfortunate, of oppression of the down-trodden, of 
the sufferings of the poor, and the neglect of the rich, 
the serious and deep orbs told of honest indignation, 
and on such occasions they flashed forth a scorn of 
meanness that would have withered the victim on 




W$i> Iff!? fOTItiin, 



OR, JOS1J-, TilE HEKOl^^E OF FLORENCE. 281 

whom it lighted. The nose was of medium size, not 
aquiline, but beautifully moulded, while the ears were 
small pink shells, whose varying and flitting and deli- 
cate colors reminded me of the beautiful hues of ocean 
shells. The mouth, and oh ! how dearly do lovers remem- 
ber the eyes and mouth of those whom they love ; the 
mouth w^as small, cut in exquisite mould, eloquent of 
love, yet singularly pure, and the teeth were small and 
white as pearls. Her hair was of that beautiful blue 
black, which is at once- so rare, and yet so lovely, and 
so luxuriant, that Josie w^as often forced with a beau- 
tiful petulance to chide and restore to their homes 
the loving tresses that sought to cling about the white, 
warm neck. The foot and hand were small, handsome, 
and possessed that tone of firmness, and yet perfect 
elasticity, which always characterizes the women of high 
blood. To me, recalling those days of the past, she 
seems a peerless vision, such as the Almighty sometimes 
sends to the earth to convey to the men and women 
beholding them some conception of w^hat divine beauty 
may be, and of what glorious perfection even the human 
race may be lifted into, by general lives of purity, 
honor and allegiance to God. 

On the morning I have mentioned above, that of 
August 12th, I had a long interview with Josie— indeed 
I may say that I spent the bulk of the day with her. I 
explained to her my residence when at home in the 
North, Detroit, and told her how I came to join the 
army, how I happened to be captured at the battle in 
Tennessee, my adventures afterwards, and the episode 
of my acquaintance with the soldier who turned out to 
be a young lady. She listened with intense earnestness, 
36 



282 ' SOUTPIEKN PRISONS ; 

and then for the first time made known to me the name 
of the girl, Miss Emma Grosvenor. This venturesome 
young lady was sent by the rebels back within our lines 
to her home, having suffered no molestation, but having 
gained the respect of even the rebels themselves by her 
modesty and courage. I told Josie, too, of my varied 
experiences in prison life, of my numerous escapes, and 
of my final journey to the house of her father. 

We were not, however, dependent for amusement on 
conversation alone. Josie sang and played beautifully, 
and was as generous as my heart could wish in her 
kindness towards me in these respects. We dined 
together, and whiled away the afternoon in delightful 
conversation. Towards evening, as the dusk came on, 
and there was little danger of our being closely observed, 
even if we were seen by any passer by, we told Bob to 
saddle the horses, and we determined to go out riding 
on horseback. We rode away from the house in a dir- 
ection different from any in which I had hitherto ap- 
proached the mansion, under the guidance of Miss Sey- 
mour, who seemed entirely familiar with the route. As 
for myself, I asked no questions at first as to whither 
we were going, my happiness being too complete at 
being so near my fair conductress to admit of much 
curiosity. At length, however, after riding five or six 
miles, I ventured to suggest to Josie that we were get- 
ting rather far from home, and asked if she had any de- 
finite object in the course she was taking. She then 
confided to me a fact that I had often suspected, though 
hitherto it had been a mere suspicion, caused by rumors 
which I had heard floating about among the soldiery, 
both Union and Rebel, that there had existed in the South 
during almost the whole time of the war, at least since 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEROHiTE OF' FLOEEIS'CE. 283 

the organization could be formed after the firing upon 
Fort Snmpter, a Union League, that is a confederation 
of men loyal to the Government, who had never at heart 
embraced Secession, though compelled outwardly to 
subscribe to the cause, and apparently agreeing in view 
with the Confederates. To this body Mr. Seymour be- 
longed, among it he numbered his truest friends, and 
in the body were families with whom Josie was on 
unusually intimate terms, and whom she considered her 
truest associates. 

The members of this league were almost all men 
somewhat advanced in life, as it was considered useless 
to enroll young men who might at any moment be 
drafted into the army, and the objects of the organiza- 
tion were to operate silently at the South in fostering and 
keeping alive union sentiment, so that, as soon as a fa- 
vorable opportunity should occur, they might speak 
and act openly in tlie interest of peace. That time had 
not yet come, but it was evident that it was approach- 
ing, and the members of the league grew bolder and 
more confident daily. The organization numbered sev- 
eral thousands of men throughout the South, but com- 
munication was necessarily secret, and ho general meet 
ing of the body had been or was held, as such a gather- 
ing in the face of a people infuriated by disaster and 
mortification, as the Southerners then were, would prob- 
ably have precipitated the members of the league into 
open hostilities with the Rebels. 

Yet the leaguers were not without the means of cor- 
responding with one another ; messengers were constant- 
ly going to and fro throughout the South, carrying mis- 
sions, often merely by word of mouth, and often written 
in a cipher understood only by a few of the leading 



284 SOTJTHERN PRISOKS ; 

minds of the leagues. These messengers generally pro- 
fessed to he epgaged upon their own business simply, 
and always being men of position in their localities, and 
being able to carry letters of recommendation signed 
by men known throughout the entire South, were unhes- 
itatingly allowed to pass wherever they might desire 
to go. It is probable that the Confederate Government 
suspected the existence of some such organization, but, 
if so, it either did not deem it of sufficient danger to 
warrant a close investigation, or it concluded that the 
character of the men composing it was such that, so 
long as no active hostility to the Gfovernment was un- 
dertaken, it was best left alone. 

For they were men of wealth and power, 
Whose loyal hearts craved not for slavery, 
But for liberty and union. 

It was towards the house of one of the members of 
this league that Josie was taking me ; for several rea- 
sons, but principally because she wished me to know 
them, and because it might very likely turn out that the 
members might be of use to me in regaining my home 
and, I cannot help thinking she thought, of enabling 
me to carry her away with me. At once, on her ac- 
quainting me with her destination and the character of 
the men whom we were about to visit, I perceived the 
immense value of the intimacy which she proposed to 
bring about, and I resolved to cultivate and improve it 
to the utmost. 

A ride of a couple of miles farther, in the moonlight, 
which was swiftly flooding the fields by this time, 
brought us to a planter's residence, one of the usual 
kind, roomy, but low and low-storied, which did not 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIjSTE OF FLOEEKCE. 285 

present any marks of being aught but the home of a 
well-to-do farmer, but little affected by the war or its 
losses. In the warm, light evening no lamps had been 
lit in the house, but sitting on the veranda were several 
ladies and gentlemen, the former smoking and all en- 
gaged in chat and conversation about matters of home 
interest. As we entered the gatewaj^ and rode leisurely 
up the broad drive-way, I could at once see that the 
coming upon them of a person with whom the party was 
totally unacquainted, produced no little surprise, even 
though accompanied by Miss Seymour, whom all evi- 
dently knew, and whom, as I afterwards learned, all 
loved. We rode, however, quietly up to the piazza, and 
I took Josie from her saddle. A gentleman and lady 
had stepped forward from the group, to whom she intro- 
duced me, announcing them as Mr. and Mrs. Jamieson. 
Leaving me standing aside after I had been most cordi- 
ally welcomed by them, she exchanged a few confiden- 
tial words with them, and at once Mr. Jamieson 
returned to me, grasped me warmly by the hand and 
presented me to the party of ladies and gentlemen who 
had clustered round me as a Union soldier, lately a 
captive, now escaped and brought among them by their 
darling protege, Miss Seymour. 

On m}^ introduction, all present welcomed me heart- 
ily, and I was at once made to feel that I was among 
friends. The hosts and their guests expressed their 
hearty sympathy at my varied fortunes, and their joy 
at being enabled to greet a Union soldier who had 
risked his life to preserve those principles which they 
cherished. Within a few minutes I was on intimate 
terms with the whole group, and narrating my strange 
adventures by flood and field. Those told amid the 



286 SOHTHERN PEISONS; 

wondering comments of my listeners, we fell into gen- 
eral conversation concerning the condition of the South 
and the war, all agreeing that the end could not be far 
off, but that the North must soon subdue her enemy. 
This opinion was fortified by what had been learned 
concerning Sherman's triumphant march to Atlanta, 
and the desperate tenacity with which Grant clung to 
Lee at Petersburg and Richmond. 

During the conversation but little was said concern- 
ing the League, but I was given fully to understand 
that any assistance which the members could give me 
would be heartily at my service, and that in those en- 
rolled I had already warm friends, especially in view 
of my presentation by Miss Seymour, whom all adored. 
I was also instructed in the signs by which I might rec- 
ognize any members of the League, whenever, and 
wherever I might chance to meet them, and told that 
I could be admitted within the organization whenever I 
might choose. 

After a visit of an hour or two, Miss Seymour and 
myself returned to the mansion. Of the delight of that 
moonlight ride I dare hardly speak here. It seems 
sacred. My love and I were in beautiful harmonious 
accord. Not much was said during the journey home- 
ward, but the silence was eloquent. The timid, yet 
true, clasp with which my love met the hand which 
stole towards her, told of a love as modest as Diana's, 
as warm and constant as that of Venus, and as true as 
that of Dido, the Carthagenian queen, for J^naeas, the 
Trojan adventurer. The time of our bliss, alas, too 
quickly drew to a close. An hour or so of moderate 
riding brought us to our homes, iind I sought the 
friendly shelter and obscurity of my hut, while my love 




Mi 




OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 287 

repaired to lier father's Louse, not, however, before 
she had sweetly kissed me good night and wished 
me happy dreams. Can it be doubted that with such 
an intercessor I enjoyed delightful visions? 

The next morning I arose early, and first partook of 
a hearty breakfast that had been carefully cooked by 
Bob ; after that came a line Havana cigar, provided by 
my benefactress, and for which I was as thankful as 
men can only be who have undergone a long season of 
campaigning, and to whom the delightful weed was but 
strange company. Enjoying my smoke, I waited quietly 
for what the events of the day might bring forth. I had 
hardly finished my cigar, when I noticed Josie riding 
slowly down the roadway leading to my cabin. I went 
out of the door to greet her and exchange the saluta- 
tions of the morning when she dismounted some lit- 
tle distance from my hut, and I had the great felicity 
of holding her in my arms a minute while I was lifting 
her from the saddle. I tied her horse to a tree near by, 
and walked with her arm-in-arm to the hut, where we 
waited until Bob should bring me also a saddled 
horse on which I could accompany her on an early 
ride. I drew Josie down upon the sofa beside me, and 
stole my arm about her waist. In fond caresses her 
lips met mine, and she whispered to me the soft secret 
of her love, no longer with any hesitation save that of 
maidenly timidity, because she had promised to be my 
wife, and we both awaited only the coming of more 
fortunate times to be united, and become all in all to 
one another. 

Bob's appearance with the horses, however, put a 
sudden termination to our delightful reveries and 
recalled us to sublunary cares. The horses were spir- 



288 soTJTHER]sr PRISONS ; 

ited and fast, the morning was yet cool and delightful, 
the roads were hard and excellent, and our morning's 
sport passed off most joyously. We rode for miles along 
country roadways, through grassy lanes, peering into 
dense clumps of wood which seemed to partake of thf^ 
nature of the forests of the tropics, and which were .%11 
of rich blossoms and leaves, and over which heavy 
creepers crawled in luxurious profusion. These forests 
did not invite a closer examination, as they were dark, 
and, despite the rich foliage and blossoms, seemed 
gloomy, as no doubt they were when fairly entered. 
We rode by shining rivulets flowing over beds of shingly 
gravel, and whose waters, though dark, were yet as 
clear as crystal, giving a curious impression from their 
gloomy lucidness. We saw in the distance fields of 
grain and cotton, but we were too happy to do more 
than mark the operations of toilsome industry. For us, 
the forest, the river, and whatever told of beauty, alone 
had charms. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEKOIU'E OF FLORENCE. 289 



CHAPTER XXII. 

MR. SEYMOUR'S RETURN. 

Miss Seymour's Governess. — Return of Mr. Seymour. —His Discovery 
of me. — Angry Interview. — His Daughter's Prayers at last trium- 
phant. 

Love does reign 

In stoutest minds and maketh monstrous war: 

He maketh war, but maketh peace again. 

Spenser. 

Tlie Savannahs of tlie South are peculiar in their na- 
ture, the luxuriance of the grasses, the rich magnifi^ 
cence of its vegetation, the heavy forests which usually 
encircle them, and Josie and I enjoyed those features of 
the landscape to our hearts' content. On our ride we 
repeated our vows of continual constancy to one another, 
and swore to be true, no matter what might betide either. 
Josie told me all her previous history, how when young 
she had had a governess of Northern extraction, how 
she had never received any other womanly advice or 
instruction, her mother having died when she was a 
child, and all the particulars concerning her governess. 
Miss Evans, a young lady wiio had come to the South 
from New England, and concerning whom there was a 
romantic story. 

It seemed that this young lady was the daughter of 

persons of former wealth and influence at the North, 
37 



290 SOUTHERN PRISOT^S ; 

whose means had become reduced by the Tinfortunate 
speculations of her father. Compelled to earn her own 
livelihood, she had sought the South as the place where 
her education might be most available. She had first 
made an engagement in a family in North Carolina, and 
there had been employed in the home of a Mr. Duncan. 
He had two daughters and an only son. The usual con- 
sequence of bringing together an impressible young man 
and a heart-free and cultivated young lady followed. 
The young man became violently enamored of the girl, 
and she returned his affection. His sentiments, however, 
she could not openly reciprocate, on account of her 
inferior position in the family of his father. The attach- 
ment soon came to the knowledge of Mr. Duncan, and 
the young man was forbidden to entertain any such 
absurd notion as that of marrying a governess. She 
was compelled to leave the house, and sought for em- 
ployment farther south in the house of Mr. Sejnnour, 
where she remained during the period which elapsed 
throughout the education of Miss Seymour. Then she 
returned to her New England home, and was soon sought 
in marriage by her former suitor, whom she accepted and 
married. 

As Josie and I reviewed the history of Miss Evans 
and her lover, we could but be reminded of our own 
attachment, and the doubts and uncertainties which 
overhung it, and we returned to the mansion feeling 
somewhat graver, but yet hoping that our love might 
have as auspicious a termination as did theirs. 

We reached home about ten o'clock, and after the 
interchange of loving embraces, she returned to her 
father' s and I to my cabin, having determined again on 
the morrow to ride out together. 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIjS^E OF FLORENCE. 291 

Both Josie and myself were naturally very anxious 
concerning tlie movements of Mr. Seymour and his re- 
turn, which must, of course, take place sooner or later, 
and which we had too much reason to believe would not 
now be very long delayed. The next morning after our 
ride Josie paid me a long visit at my cabin. She con- 
fided to me all her hopes as well as fears springing from 
her father' s expected return, while I consoled her anxie- 
ties as best I knew how, and strove to make her as cheer- 
ful and happy as it was possible under the circumstan- 
ces. After a tender interview of an hour, Bob again 
appeared with the horses, and we again started for a 
long ride, which lasted until nearly noon, when we re- 
turned, Josie repairing to the mansion and I going to my 
cabin. 

The next day I received through Bob, from Josie, an 
invitation to call and see her at the mansion, a kindness 
which I was not slow to avail myself of. While there 
my love and I held a long conversation touching the pre- 
sent condition of the Confederacy, she having obtained 
some late papers, both Union and Confederate, which 
discussed quite fully the situation. It was plain as 
daylight that the South was swiftly losing ground, that 
the triumph of the North was but a question of time, 
and in this prospect both Josie and I rejoiced exceed- 
ingly. A long day of delight followed, and the next 
day we went upon a fishing excursion together, which 
was productive of some beautiful specimens of the finny 
tribes peculiar to the Southern country, where the fish 
differ materially from those caught in our Northern 
waters, but are hardly less delicious. 

We dined together in the evening, after which we 
strolled out for a walk. It was a beautiful moonlight 



292 SOUTHEEN PMSOTirs ; 

night : the air was cool, the sky was bright and clear, and 
the stars, of which the heavens were full, twinkled, and 
shone more brilliantly than diamonds ; the shady trees 
nnder which we walked kept the grassy walk dry from 
the dew. Indeed it was one of those calm, brilliant eve- 
nings which awaken every feeling of nature, and fill 
the heart and soul with thoughts more beautiful than 
can possibly be imagined. Winding up a steep ascent, 
we came to a green summit, which appeared, among the 
savage rocks that environed it, like the blossom on the 
thorn. It was a spot formed for solitary delight, inspir- 
ing that soothing tenderness so dear to the feeling mind, 
and which calls back to memory the images of past 
regret, softened by distance, and endeared by frequent 
recollections. Wild shrubs grew from the crevices of 
the rocks beneath, and the high trees of pine and cedar 
that waved above, afforded a melancholy and romantic 
shade. The silence of the scene was interrupted only 
by the breeze, as it slowly swept over the woods, and 
by the solitary conversation of Josie and myself. Josie, 
who was born amid scenes of grandeur and sublimity, 
had quickl}^ imbibed a taste for their charms, which 
was heightened by the influence of a warm imagination 
To view the moon in the evening, or the beautiful sun 
in the morning rising above the hills, tinging their snowy 
heads with light, and suddenly darting his rays over 
the whole face of nature ; to see the fiery splendor of 
the clouds reflected in the river below, and the roseate 
tints first steal upon the rocks above, were among the 
earliest pleasures of which Josie was susceptible. 
Josie, too, was possessed of a mind that had been cul- 
tivated in its fine noble feelings, and was an ardent 
lover of nature. "It may be well to add that a careful 



OE JOSIE. THE HEEOIT^E OF FLOREIS'CE. 293 

observation, and a sincere love of nauure, will most 
effectually cultivate those pure and delicate sentiments 
wliicli betoken a lofty constitution of mind. Many sucll 
lovers of the beautiful and the good in the works of 
God, are to be found in the humblest walks of life, with 
small social importance, and a few advantages for gen- 
eral culture, while many who occupy high stations, and 
enjoy every advantage, are as dead and insensible to 
all that is lovely and beautiful in creation, as the horses 
they drive or the stones beside their path. How much 
our estimation of a person is increased by some obser- 
vation which shows their notice and appreciation of 
nature, not only of what is great and grand, but what 
is small and beautiful or curious. The mountain, the 
cataract, the ocean, may well attract the notice of even 
a casual observer ; but the true student and lover of 
nature will see the faded leaf, the frail spire of grass, 
the insignificant insect as well, and detect in these the 
amazing work, and the surpassing wisdom of God. Nor 
is this observation and study a mere search after dry, dull 
facts ; it is a pursuit of pleasure, of pure, lofty delight ; for 
the enjoyment is almost boundless to one whose spirit 
is in harmony with the beneficient Creator, to discover 
the wisdom and goodness of his wonderful works. And 
this delight in and search after his works is not, as some 
appear to think, the romance or enthusiasm of youthful 
minds. It is true that the stern, practical duties of life, 
rough contact with the world's rough scenes, very much 
deaden the finer sensibilities of our being, cramp and 
confine our study to the works of men, while the purer, 
nobler works of God, though all around us, are over 
looked and almost forgotten. But this love of nature 
should increase with our years ; it should grow and ex 



294 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

pand, not wither and die ; and so it does in the noblest 
and best of minds. It tends to draw us away from the 
low, corrupting things of the earth, and lifts us up nearer 
to the great former of all beings, the good Father of all 
spirits." 

From being delighted with the observation of nature, 
she grew pleased with seeing beautiful pictures des- 
criptive of natural scenery, and soon displayed a taste 
for poetry and painting. When she was about sixteen, 
she often selected from her father' s library those works 
of the Italian poets, most celebrated for picturesque 
beauty, and would spend the first hours of morning in 
reading them under the shade of the trees that bordered 
the river. Here, too, she would often attempt rude 
sketches of the surrounding scenery. It would be as 
useless as it is unnecessary for me to give a full account 
of our conversation ; suffice it to say that we talked 
over many things, renewed our love and fidelity, agreed 
upon all points discussed, and enjoyed a delightful 
hour in all respects. 

The next day again we rode, and so passed the time 
until, one morning, with a seared, pale face, Josie came 
running down to the cabin holding a letter in her hand. 
I at once conjectured that the missive announced the 
return of Mr. Seymour. So it proved, as I gathered 
from the letter while poor Josie lay sobbing in my arms. 
Nothing, however, remained but to await his advent, 
and trust to the appeals of his daughter to soften his 
heart. He came three days afterwards, and within a few 
hours after his arrival Josie stole to my quarters and 
communicated what her father had announced as his 
plans. He had lost all faith in the Confederate authori- 
ties, despaired of success, and had determined to aban- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROHNTE OF FLORENCE. 295 

don the country forever. With that view he signified 
his intention of selling all his property, and leaving for 
England on the first blockade runner that should sail 
from Charleston. There was no other course for us but 
to wait till Mr, Seymour should become acquainted with 
my presence, and meet the danger with boldness then, 
and so I sent Josie back to the house, sorrowing and 
anxious, but both of us hoping that the future might 
yet grow brighter. 

The next day, surely enough, Mr. Seymour proceeded 
to make the usual inspection of his slave quarters that 
Southern planters were accustomed to make whenever 
they returned from a journey, that they might ascertain 
that all the hands were on the place, and that everything 
was going right. He passed along among the cabins — I 
watching proceedings with great curiosity from a side 
window — and seemed very much satisfied with the con- 
dition of things, if he could be judged rightly" by his 
smiling face and contented manner. At last he reached 
mine, pushed open the door and walked in, while I was 
sitting in the inner apartment smoking a cigar. To say 
that he was astounded at the appearance of the interior, 
with its elegant furniture and appearance of taste and 
comfort would only partially express the emotions 
which he showed. At first he gazed around like one 
petrified, 'Undoubtedly recognizing much of the furniture 
as having belonged to the mansion, though there he had 
not missed it. After staring about him in a bewildered 
way for some minutes, he advanced into the interior 
room and beheld me, at whose appearance he was still 
more aghast. For some moments he could only stare at 
me, without uttering a single word. At last he faintly 
gasped forth a Question as to who I was. I had risen 



296 SOUTHERN PKisoisrs ; 

upon his entrance, laid aside my cigar, and now frankly 
and fully told liim who I was, how I had escaped, and 
how his daughter had given me an asylnm, but I did 
not then venture to breathe his daughter' s name, except 
as my benefactress. After recovering from his first stu- 
por of wonder, Mr. Seymour became violently angry, at 
least in appearance, demanded how I dare come upon 
his plantation, declared that his daughter had acted like 
a fool in having befriended me, and vowed that he would 
turn me over to the Confederate authorities as soon as he 
could communicate with them, and then strode indig- 
nantly out of the cabin without saying another word. 
Thinking that the plantation was no longer a safe resi- 
dence for me, I communicated quickly with Bob, obtained 
a fast horse, and galloped to the residence of one of the 
members of the Union League, where I was warmly wel- 
comed, and assured of safety, at least for the present. 
I had left word with Bob for whose house I had started, 
so that Josie might see me, and the next morning early 
my darling presented herself, having ridden a long dis- 
tance in the early dawn. She told me that her father 
had returned to the house, and sternly demanded an 
explanation of my presence, and her part in the transac- 
tion. Terrified by the harshness of his manner, which 
was entirely new to her, she had thrown herself into his 
arms and told him everything, her early acquaintance 
with me, her love, and declared that if she were sepa- 
rated from me, her fondest hopes would be crushed for- 
ever. At first he utterly refused to listen to her entreat- 
ies, but finally, perceiving from the intensity of her 
agony that serious consequences were likely to result 
from continued sternness, he, with reluctance, consented 
that she should go after me and recall me to the house. 



'■ n 




OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORETfCE. 297 

This she accordingly did^ and we both hastily returned 
to the mansion, then, for the first time, I was introduced 
to Mr. Seymour. At first he upbraided both of us for 
the concealment, and renewed his positive determination 
to turn me over to the Confederates. He declared that 
I was a Union private soldier, without means or position, 
and that nothing but misery could result from any such 
union as we proposed. Besides, he argued, that the fact 
of my being at his house, and still more, my marriage 
with his daughter, could not fail to become known within 
a very few days, and both facts would at once be for- 
warded to the authorities at Richmond, which Avould 
prove his own utter ruin. At the close of his address, 
he again announced his unalterable determination that 
no such marriage should ever take place, and declared 
that he would certainly give me up if I did not previ- 
ously make my escape to some member of the Union 
League, and abstain from any further visits to Josie and 
his house. 

At this point Josie, who had hitherto remained un- 
movable and speechless, her pale, agitated face showing 
her suffering, sprang forward, and, kneeling at her 
father' s feet, besought him, with heartbreaking sobs and 
agonized face, to recall his determination, and at least 
afford me an asylum in the house, without which I was 
liable to be retaken at any time, and in such an event 
she declared she should no longer care to live, as her life 
could only be one of pain and misery. Already she 
had undergone too much in her constant anxiety for my 
fate. She felt certain that further anguish would either 
dethrone her reason or destroy her life. If her father 
could not give his consent to our marriage, then let him 

withhold it, for the present at least, but she adjured him 
38 



298 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

by the love he bore his motherless daughter not to com- 
mit me again to the mercies of the Confederate authori- 
ties, who would surely forfeit my life, or at least consign 
me indefinitely to some gloomy prison, where I should 
at best die only a more lingering death. 

For a few minutes Mr. Seymour w^as deaf even to 
Josie's prayers, supported, as they were, by forcible 
representations from me of what my fate would certainly 
be if I were recaptured, a fate which my past experience 
of rebel barbarity enabled me fully to realize and to pic- 
ture to Miss Seymour's father with great force. At 
length, however, the feelings of the father triumphed 
over all the views of interest and worldly wisdom. 
Raising his daughter from her knees he folded her ten- 
derly in his arms, and soothed the agitated girl with 
whispered assurances that I should remain as their guest 
at least, and that as to the other question he would think 
it over. Josie knew that the victory was gained. Hiding 
her blushing face upon her father's shoulder, she 
extended her hand to me as an assurance that we were 
not to be parted. I clasped it fervently, and with broken 
utterances poured out my heartfelt thanks to my lovely 
benefactress and her father, for whom I had conceived a 
sudden and marked respect. 

Mr. Seymour was not a man to do things by halves. 
As the signal of his friendliness, he ordered a servant 
to bring from the cellar a bottle of old Madeira, and we 
all quaffed the rare old wine to our future happiness and 
good fortune. I was allotted a beautiful apartment, and 
from this time forth became a constant resident of the 
mansion. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 299 



CHAPTER XXm. 

MY ILL-FATED MARRIAGE. 

I am Recaptured on the day of my Wedding. — My Enlistment in the 
Rebel Service. — I Desert while on Guard Duty dring the night. — 
I see Josie again. — The Rebel Cavalry in Pursuit. — A Hurried 
Ride. — I become 111 in the Woods and Seek a Shelter. 

Oh ! married love ! each heart shall own. 

Where two congenial souls unite. 
Thy golden chains inlaid with down. 

Thy lamp with heavens own splendor bright 

JLangJiomo. 

Heretofore I had often been surprised at the quietude 
which surrounded my newly found home near Florence, 
though attributing the circumstance mainly to the fact 
that this post contained but few prisoners, and there was 
therefore less anxiety felt concerning escapes and less 
effort made in recaptures. Recently, however, the num- 
ber of these unfortunates had greatly increased, from 
the insecurity which encircled those prisoners further 
north and west, and the post was fast becoming an im- 
portant one, while a corresponding degree of vigilance 
began to be manifested throughout the adjoining coun- 
try. Squads of Rebel Cavalry commenced to patrol 
the vicinity for a circuit of full twenty miles from Flor- 
ence, infesting the roads and lanes and "gobbling up" 
both escaped prisoners and able bodied men, the latter 



300 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

of whom, few in number indeed, they forwarded to the 
armies. Information to this effect was quickly commu- 
nicated to me through Bob and members of the Loyal 
League, and I hastened to regard the freindly warnings 
by remaining in doors with Josie and her father. 

In this unsettled and dangerous condition of things, 
both Josie and myself strongly favored our immediate 
union, as the events of even the next few hours were 
uncertain, and in the event of any misfortune — which I 
knew might be attended with death — we both wished to 
be husband and wife. At last we suggested our fears 
and desires to Mr. Seymour, and though he at the out- 
set objected strongly, even fiercely, to an immediate 
union, he finally — worn out, I suspect, by Josie' s en- 
dearments and my importunities — gave a reluctant con- 
sent. 

The wedding was fixed for Monday in the second 
week of September, and the ceremony was to be per- 
formed in the parish church, by the minister of the con- 
gregation. On the Sunday previous my love and my- 
self rode out alone, and while exchanging those shy 
confidences which we hoped and supposed were the last 
of our separated lives, we unfortunately were passed 
by a Rebel cavalry squad, whom we saw too late to 
avoid and who cast very suspicious and alarming glances 
towards myself, though taking no action against my 
liberty. No sooner were they out of sight than I warned 
Josie of impending danger, as I feared, and w^e put 
spurs to our horses and rode fiercely home, astounding 
Mr, Seymour by our sudden and tumultuous return, 
but receiving his decided approval of our course as soon 
as he was made acquainted with the circumstances. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREJSTCE. 301 

The wedding, however, was fixed for the next day, 
and it was not deemed advisable to postpone it. Tlie 
morning was a glorious one, the sun shining out bril- 
liantly, and all nature seeming to promise hapiness and 
prosperity to our married life. We, with my darling's 
father, repaired to the little church about ten in the 
morning, and found the worthy clergyman in waiting. 
My bride was doubly beautiful, simply but richly and 
tastefully dressed and her fair face radiant with plea- 
sure and love. Alas ! how well too, this day do I remem- 
ber its beauty, its innocence, its truthfulness, its blushing 
happiness ! All so soon to be effaced in overwhelming 
misery ! 

The clergyman commenced the marriage ceremony, 
we bowed before him reverently, lovingly, he concluded 
the ordinance, and pronounced us man and wife, when 
a crash burst upon my startled ears, the doors and win- 
dows were forced open, a crowd of Rebel soldiery rush- 
ed in and overflowed the building ! Poor Josie sunk to 
my feet with one piteous, swooning cry, [and I blessed 
God that she had fainted]. The brutal soldiers siezed 
me, and, notwithstanding the most desperate resistance 
an unarmed man could offer, they dragged me from the 
church and from Josie, my only hope, and upon whose 
welfare and happiness my very life depended. How 
different were my thoughts now from those I had in- 
dulged a few minutes before. Then expectation, hope, 
delight, danced before me ; now melancholy and disap- 
pointment chilled the ardor of my soul, and discolored 
my future prospects. For a moment my brain reeled 
under its affliction, and I was forced to give way to the 
pangs of fury and despair, while I exclaimed — 



302 SOUTHEKN PEISOICS ; 

" Rage on, ye winds ; burst clouds, and waters roar ; 
You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, 
And suit the gloomy habit of my soul." 

My captors liurried me along the road towards Flor- 
ence, stopping neither to regard my remonstrances, my 
outcries, my lamentations or my threats. Of the piti- 
able scene which we left behind us at the church I have 
only a conception, one of agony which I have borne to 
the present day. Of the misery of my darling when 
she woke from that death-like swoon, and found her 
lover, her husband, for whom she had dared so much, 
whom I believe she loved better than her own life, torn 
from her side just as the marriage vows had been pro- 
nounced, her anguish is something I dare not look back 
upon. 

When first taken I supposed my captors knew me to 
be an escaped Union prisoner, and my mind whirled 
with devices for averting suspicion from Mr. Seymour 
and his daughter; but the fact that the soldiers had 
made no move to arrest that gentleman, and their con- 
versation among themselves, after my capture, convinced 
me that they had simply determined to impress me as an 
able-bodied man, and forward me on to the army. 

I was taken to Florence and turned over to the com- 
mander, who was a gentleman of education and refine- 
ment, and who, I must confess, treated the prisoners 
under his charge with all the consideration which, under 
the circumstances, he could display. I told him part of 
my sad fate, declaring that my home was at Macon, 
Ga., and that, having been engaged tp Miss Seymour for 
a considerable period, I had but two weeks ago come to 
her home with the view of marrying her, and how the 
ceremony had been performed on the very hour when T 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 303 

was dragged from my bride by his brutal soldiers. The 
commander pitied my hard fate, but told me that accord- 
ing to an order issued from the Confederate War 
Department, he was instructed to conscript all able-bod- 
ied men on whom he could lay hands ; that, however, as 
my case seemed a special one, he would, if possible, 
retain me at Florence to do duty there. Meanwhile, I 
was placed in charge of Captain Cook. 

The next day, however, the commander informed me 
that it would be impossible for me to remain at the post 
for more than three or four days, I was sworn into the 
Confederate service, which I entered to save Mr. Sey- 
mour and Josie from risk — but vowed I would never fire 
a gun against my own flag — and, probably to give me an 
idea of soldiering, I was placed on duty to guard some 
railroad iron. 

I deserted that night, hastened to Mr. Seymour's 
house, alarmed him by rousing him from his sleep at a 
most unseasonable hour in the morning and requested 
him to call Josie at once, as I knew if 1 were recaptured 
I should be shot as a deserter, and that, therefore, time 
was precious. Josie was soon on the spot, and throwing 
her loving arms around my neck, she kissed me, and 
bid me welcome. I had but a moment to embrace her, 
and assure her of the absolute necessity that I should be 
gone if I would save my life. I tore myself from her 
entwining arms, from her entreaties and prayers, rushed 
out of the house, sprang upon a swift horse that Bob 
had by this time provided, and fled as the clatter of a 
troop of cavalry, approaching the house in pursuit, be- 
came plainly audible. I rode till dark, first striking 
into a road little used, and avoiding all highways. 
There seemed to be little or no pursuit ; the steed I rode 



304 SOITTHEEN PEISONS ; 

flew like a whirlwind away from tlie jaded horses of the 
eavalrymen. 

About eight o'clock in the evening, finding the 
noble animal completely worn out by the furious 
pace at which he had been driven, I abandoned him, 
having determined, at all events, to take to the woods 
again, where I thought I might the more safely 
trust myself among their deep recesses. That night I 
slept in the trunk of a great hollow tree, and woke in 
the morning with terrible pains in my limbs, and an 
indescribable weakness and illness pervading my whole 
body. I felt certain that I was about to undergo a severe 
illness, and that I must have shelter and attendance at 
all hazards. The only course was to push for the road, 
and, after walking a mile or so, I encountered on the 
roadside a small log house, which at least promised a 
covering and human aid. 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OJT FLOBENCE. 305 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

A MOURNFUL INCIDENT. 

I Seek Refuge. — The Old Lady's Death. — I Prosecute my Journey, 
but am again Recaptured. 

O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, 

The kindest and the best ! 

Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest. 

Bwm*. 

I approached the log hut and knocked for admittance. 
The door was ox)ened by an elderly lady, who asked me 
my business. I answered that I was a Confederate sol 
dier (I still had on my Confederate uniform in which the 
Rebels had decked me when they compelled me to enlist), 
and was on my way home upon a furlough ; that I 
had been taken ill on my journey, and could go no fur- 
ther until I should obtain rest and shelter for at least a 
day or two. The lady, who was of kindly appearance, 
and seemed of a benevolent disposition, bade me wel- 
come, invited me in, and provided me with nourishing 
food during the day, and at night conducted me to a 
loft, gained by a ladder, in which she said I could sleep. 
It was a plain room, with little furniture, but dry and 
warm, and I felt sure within it of passing a comfortable 
night. The old lady seemed herself very feeble, and, 

after ascending to my sleeping apartment at evening, I 
39 



306 SOFTHOEEN PEISOK8 ' 

noticed through the great cracks of the floor that she 
moved about very slowly, and apparently with much 
difficulty, while I often heard her cough as if in pain. 
There was a little girl in the hut, who attended the old 
lady, and, after clearing away the evening meal, I heard 
the child ask her why she was so sad. For a time 
her companion seemed to make no answer save an 
occasional heavy sigh, but at last she seemed to murmur 
about days long gone by, and finally narrated to the child 
the following story : 

"The fire was burning brightly in the huge fire-place ; 
great logs were piled on each other that sent out a cheer- 
ful, crackling sound that seemed to vie with the merry 
hum of the tea-kettle. The old Maltese cat purred in 
the chimney-corner, while every nook in that old-fash- 
ioned, rag-carpeted room was lit up with that rich, mellow 
light that comes only from a brightly-burning, open fire. 

"An old lady sat in a great arm-chair, gazing intently 
into the fire. Her worn and wrinkled hands were 
clasped, and lay idle in her lap ; a deep-settled expres- 
sion of melancholy was on her brow ; and as I tripped 
to and fro, preparing our evening meal, I could not help 
feeling that her mind was revolving on some sorrows of 
long ago. I had not often seen her thus — indeed, she 
was ever busy and cheerful ; but now a shadow was on 
her brow, and I felt that I wished to know what so 
depressed a heart always so warm and genial. She was 
my grandmother. 

"My mother died when I was born ; but I had never 
felt a parent's loss, for she had been all to me ; had 
smoothed the rough places, and my childhood hours 
had been happy, indeed. It is true I often thought that 
there was some mystery connected with my mother's 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 307 

fate ; but feeling it to be a painful subject to her I loved 
so well, seldom mentioned it ; but of late I had become 
more anxious than ever ; and to-night the spell was on 
me to learn the history of mj mother' s parents, whom I 
had heard spoken of in terms of highest praise. I knew 
she was beautiful, for I had often gazed on her portrait, 
which hung in the old-fashioned parlor, which was sel- 
dom opened except on great occasions ; it seemed as if 
that portrait made it sacred. 

"While busy thinking how I should broach the sub- 
ject to her, I had completed my work. The little round 
table was drawn out before the fire, and covered with its 
snowy cloth ; a plate of golden butter and some smoking 
biscuit, with some of our own preserves, which rivaled 
the jellies of the East, completed our evening meal, not 
forgetting the ' cup which cheers, but not inebriates.' 
All being ready, I went up to my grandmother's chair, 
and, pressing a kiss on her care-worn brow, asked her if 
she was not ready for tea. She gave me a look half-sad, 
half vacant ; slowly arose from her chair, and, taking 
her accustomed seat at the table, she offered up her sim- 
ple tribute of thanks, and asked for continued blessings. 

" I thought her voice faltered, and her lips trembled 
with emotion ; a tear trembled on either lid, and her 
cheeks were pale with some hidden grief. Our meal was 
finished, and she silently resumed her seat — her face still 
wearing that same sad look, as if some terrible grief was 
eating away the vitals of her heart. I quietly and 
quickly put aside our tea things, and arranged the room, 
intending to put an end to the painful scene. I drew a 
little stool from the corner up to her leet; I laid my 
head in her lap — I had often done this years ago, but 
not of late. Being of industrious habits, we spent little 



308 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

time in dreamland. Her hand smoothed my curly hair ; 
and, as she did so, I heard a long-drawn sigh, as if a 
heavy load pressed down her life and soul. I gazed 
into her face with a yearning, wistful look, and said : 

" 'What is it, grandma, dear'^ Tell me, please, and 
let me share your grief, whatever it may be V 

" 'I will, my child; and though it may cause you 
much sorrow, and many bitter tears, yet it is high time 
that you knew all ; and I wish to tell you it myself ere 
I go to join them in that bright, holy land. I have lived 
on for your sake, and have often felt that if it were not 
for you I could not have dragged through these long, 
dreary years ; but oh ! my child, you have been such a 
source of comfort — such a joy to your old grandmother, 
that I have buried the sorrows which crushed and made 
me old before my time. 

" ' Thankful that God had not utterly deprived me of 
all that makes life desirable — something to love, to hope 
for, to cling to — and I have had all this in you. But to- 
night I have been sorely tried ; it has cost me many bit- 
ter tears to bring myself to this point, to voluntarily 
open the wounds afresh that time has partially healed. 
Oh ! child, nothing could induce me to live over again 
those scenes of folly, and the retribution which followed, 
but that you may steer clear of the shoals and quicksands 
which have embittered my whole life, I will go through 
the sad recital. 

" ' I feel that my days are few, at most ; and to-night, 
if my child will listen, I will tell her a story of her 
grandmother. ' 

The eager look and firm pressure of her ]iand in mine, 
told how grateful I should feel for what I had been so 
long thirsting to know. And thus she began : 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROITSTE OF FLORENCE. 309 

' ' Years ago, I was young and beautiful. No one 
knew the fact better than I, who was the youngest of a 
large family, and the pride, the hope, the joy of all. 
Merry and light-hearted, I felt that I ought to be praised 
and petted, and no higher aim had I at the early age of 
sixteen. I went into society, and received the attention 
of gentlemen. T had lost my mother when quite youi^g, 
and none of my sisters presumed to dictate to me. I 
was fond of admiration, and drew on the admiring 
crowd by coquettish ways and means, which soon made 
me the reigning belle of the little town of R . 

" At last there came among us Ernest Lyle, with high, 
pale brow and noble mien. He was quiet, gentlemanly 
and dignified ; every motion bespoke a gentleman of edu- 
cation and refinement ; but, alas ! it was all he had. 
Self-made, self-taught, he had journeyed life's pathway. 
All loved and respected him but the mercenary few who 
envied him of what they had no hopes of obtaining 
themselves. This select few were the aristocracy of 

R ; and well was I joked and laughed at, when 

evening after evening found him my escort home from 
our usual festivities. My penniless beau was the theme 
of all. At last, as much as I loved him, for my secret 
soul acknowledged it as such, I could not brave the jeers 
of them all. When I could steal away and meet Ernest 
on some mossy bank, beneath some sheltering oak, I 
was happy that no one could tease me of it. 

" Thus days, weeks and months passed. We had our 
stolen interviews, and they were hours such as angels 
know in paradise. If Ernest had been less noble, and 
had proposed to elope, I should have gone. He seemed 
to understand my position in a degree, but, nevertheless, 
no thought but that I would remain true until such a 



310 80UTHEKN PEISONS ; 

time as he could provide a home suitable for the daugh- 
ter of Judge B , entered his brain. In society, in 

the presence of others, he shared alike my smiles and 
winning ways ; but I knew when and where to find my 
Ernest ; when his sensitive heart was wrung by my cold- 
ness or neglect, and he would steal away by himself, I 
would find him, and fling my arms about his neck, and 
whisper: 'Dear Ernest.' Oh, that magic word would 
bring back the smile, though often saddened by past 
recollections, and he would press a kiss of such utter 
thankfulness on my brow — it burns there to-night. I 
have often thought that those burning lips did sear my 
brow. I have felt it often, though no marks are there. 

"Time passed on and wrought no change, save Ernest 
grew pale and thoughtful, a hectic flush was on his 
cheek, and a hollow cough smote the ear with painful 
harshness. Oh, had I known that he — so good, so true, 
so noble — was to fade so soon, I would have braved the 
world's scorn or censure, and have made the hours 
bright and happy as his life slowly ebbed, but I 
knew not the nature of the disease that was eating his 
life away. He seldom went into society ; it was painful 
to him to see the cold, formal way in which I treated 
him, — I, who, with blue sky and twinkling stars above 
me, would pillow my head in his bosom, and listen to 
his dreams of the future, of the fond hopes and aspira- 
tions, which inspired him on to action. It w^as the love 
of me, and the hope that one day I should brighten his 
fireside, that sustained him through those days of toil 
and study. This could not always last, and my flirting 
propensities were sorely tried. 

" At this time there came to dwell in the Manor-house 
a ricli and influential gentleman. He had traveled over 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 311 

the European continent, and wonderful was his stock of 
information. Then I was joked and rallied at. ' Try, 
my little beauty, and see if you can't captivate this lord, 
but mind and don't lose your own heart in the attempt,' 
was my father' s ejaculation, as he overheard us discuss- 
ing his fine talents and superior merits. 'Twould be no 
bad thing to reign mistress over a house like that. A 
thought of Ernest and a pang shot through my heart. 
I could not as yet offer up a love so truly noble and self- 
sacrificing as his, to gain even the uppermost niche in 
the temple of fame ; but would it not be a famous thing 
to be the bride of the millionaire Count ? 

There was to be a grand party given in his lordship's 
honor. I forgot to meet my engagement that evening, 
so anxious was I to produce the impression I felt sure 
of producing on the mind of the newly arrived count. 
Foolish and unsophistica,ted as I was, I dreamed that 
he would bow before my shrine as all had done before. 
My dress was pure white, with a band of pearls gleam- 
ing amid my jetty locks. A single cluster of moss-buds 
was in mj^ hand, and as my sisters chided on my simple 
style I gaily said, "Beauty unadorned, is adorned the 
most. " You shall not say 'twas dress or ornament that 
won him, but my own peerless self." 'Humph!' 
exclaimed my father, coming in time to hear mj^ remarks, 
'mighty self-complacent, and no little self-conceit ; but, 
in fact I never saw you look better. It is late, however, 
and we must be off.' We were driven quickly to Mrs. 
Sherwood's, the leader of fashions and dress in our little 
town. Her rooms were brilliantly lighted, and filled 
with merry girls and smiling beaux. My heart beat 
high. I wished to know if Ernest was there, and selfish- 
ly glad was I, when, after being announced, my eye 



312 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

sought every nook and corner, and felt not his clear 
piercing eye. I entered readily into all the sports and 
fun, which wero so truly my characteristic. 

"You seem like yourself to-night," whispered Mrs. 
Sherwood ; I see the Count's eyes upon you ; he is evi- 
dently interested, but he shall ask for an introduction, 
or he will not get one." 

I thought not of my poor, lone Ernest, whose heart 
had not a throb but for me ; or, if I did, I only merged 
myself deeper in the gay, excited throng, to drown all 
thoughts of that nature. I muttered to myself, "This 
may be my last chance ; I will improve it," and so I did. 
At last I saw the hero of the hour approaching, in com- 
pany with our hostess. I felt that now my hour had 
come. I would play a desperate game, and it should 
be a short one. The introduction given, the count beg- 
ged my hand for the next dance. I said I should be 
most happy, but was already engaged. This was false, 
for when he glanced another way I motioned to a friend 
of mine to come beside me ; he did so, and as the band 
struck up a merry tune, I gave the hint, and away' we 
went in the giddy waltz. He was a capital dancer, so 
was I, and you may be sure I danced my best, for I felt 
the eyes of the Count Vesco upon me. As I left the 
floor he came up quickly, and engaged my hand in the 
next set. It was freely granted. He had not danced, 
and I should be his first partner. This was only a small 
reward for all I had risked, but it was prophetic of 
something more. Thus matters progressed, and before 
the hour arrived for our departure he had breathed 
words steeped in flattery in my ears. He said he had 
visited the sunny skies of Italy and the snow-clad hills 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE 313 

of Russia, but never "before had it been his glad chance 
to see eyes so black and locks so jetty as mine. 

"I am growing old," he said "and tired of this 
rambling mode of life ; I have sought in vain for years 
for some being who could come up to my standard and 
fill the void, and to-night I have found one. " 

His voice faltered, and his hand clasped mine more 
firmly as he continued. " It is not fitting for me to say 
more now, but tell me, may I love you ? May I come 
and see you, and ask a parent' s permission to woo and 
win so peerless a flower?" 

We stood within a recess, and his voice was quite 
audible. No one was near, and I felt safe. Visions of 
what would they say — a conquest so soon — that magni- 
ficent estate — that fine equipage — the words of my father 
— all filled my giddy brain. I did not stop to think that 
love, pure afnd truthful, is shrinking and reserved ; that 
it acts, not talks. He plead on in the same wild strain, 
and at last, stooping down, pressed a kiss on my lips 
and asked, "Tell me. Oh! tell me, if I may have the 
right to love you V 

I answered yes ; told him yes, when my love was 
plighted to another; told him yes, when Ernest was 
mine just as much as if our nuptials had been cele- 
brated, and had the sanction of the universe. Oh, would 
to heaven that my tongue had hung palsied in my mouth 
— that it had refused to utter that wretched lie. My 
father broke up our interview by coming in haste and 
stating that the carriage was waiting and my sisters 
ready. 

Count Vesco off"ered me his arm, and conducted me 
to the dressing-room. 

I had thrown my mantle about me, and was in search 

40 



314 SOUTHER?? PRiso:^s ; 

of my veil, which being long and heavy I usually 
wrapped in turban style about m}^ head. Seeing it on 
the threshold of the door leading out on the balcon}^, 
and stooping to pick it up, I heard a voice so sepulchral 
and unearthly, that it struck terror to my very soul. I 
could not resist — I had not the power — as a hand, cold, 
and dewy as the grave, dragged me out on the balcony. 
It was Ernest. He had been in the shade, but now, as 
the light of the rising moon fell on his brow, a cold chill 
ran through me. 

Oh, I shall never, never forget that face, so white, so 
stern, so terrible ! I have seen it in the dark watches 
of the night — I have seen it when standing loy the bed- 
side of some departed soul. I have seen it to-night, and 
strange as it may seem, the old look had changed — it 
had the same happy smile with which he used to wel- 
come me when we met on the brink of some mossy stream, 
to while away an hour in happy thought and pleasant 
converse. 

I shall never, while the heart pulsates or reason sits 
upon its throne, forget that voice as it whispered, 

' ' The acts of to-night afford a specimen of what j^ou 
are ! Oh, how basely have I been deceived ! Can it 
indeed be true that you, whom I once deemed so pure, 
so true, can be so false ? Oh, for the love of God and my 
soul, tell me, tell me truly, as you hope to be forgiven, 
if my sense has played me false. Tell me that all which 
I have seen to-night is unreal, that you are mine, and 
no power on earth, nor above, nor beneath, shall break 
the tie that binds us." 

Thinking of my father and the Count, and fearing 
that they would learn all and my treachery be discov- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 315 

ered, I pulled away my hand, and murmured, "-Let 
me go." 

" Oh, Eveline ! is it true that you love me no longer?" 
he murmured as he gazed yi my face with such a plead- 
ing wistful look, that the fiends incarnate must have 
possessed me to utter the fatal word which crushed the 
life out of Ernest hyle. Giving him one look, as if 
much vexed — for indeed I was — I said, "Let me go. 
It is true." A groan burst from his pallid lips : its echo 
rung out on the midnight air. I have heard it since ; yes, 
I have heard it to-night. 

Returning, I found my father and the Count very 
impatient at my delay. In vain my sisters rallied me 
on my success — in vain my father commanded — I knew 
that Ernest, with his great love, would never survive the 
shock. His system, shattered as it was, would not rally 
beneath the blow my hand had struck. 

I never closed my eyes to sleep that night, but 
walked my room in agony. The spirit of my dead 
mother was hovering about to keep her child from fur- 
ther wrong ; but I heeded not the ministering angel. 
Weighing the love I had for Ernest L3de and my pride 
and ambition, I found I was not strong enough to brave 
the displeasure of my friends and the anger of my 
father, and lose the wealth and splendor of the Count's 
castle. My heart bade me seek Ernest and retract the 
cruel words I had spoken, but I hushed its pleadings as 
best I could, and smothered the little good in me. 

Next day the Count called on me to see if I would 
ride with him. It was something to ride after those 
horses, and be admired and envied by all the village 
girls. 

At tea my father remarked, in a casual way, 



316 SOUTHERN PISONS ; 

"They say Ernest Lyle is very sick — that he doesn't 
recognize any one ; and the most remarkable thing is, 
he calls for our Eva all the time. I hope you never 
gave him any encouragement, Sis, for he is too good to 
be trifled with. Although I would never consent to an 
alliance with the house of Lyle, yet it would grieve me 
sorely to have my Eva encourage any one whom she 
knew her father would be displeased with ; but after 
last night and to-day's affair I will dismiss my fears, 
and no longer borrow trouble on that score." 

Earnest sick ! Oh heaven, delirious ! and I thought 
he would reveal all. But I need not have worried my- 
self. ■ Even then the life had gone out of that broken 
hearted man, and my secret was safe. They told me 
he was dead, and not a muscle stirred ; not a quiver 
was on my lip, but a chill crept over my heart and 
froze the life-current. I felt then, and I feel now, that I 
was his murderer. 

They buried him on the hill-side, beneath the old 
oak that used to be our try sting place. 'Twas his last 
request, and 'twas granted. The sod was fresh and the 
earth was new. The autumn leaves were falling, and I 
could not help the wish to see a grave my hands had 
dug. In the grey cold light of a harvest moon I sought 
the spot— that same icy chill about my heart, and a 
leaden weight of guilt, sorrow and remorse. The stars 
shone out one by one in the blue sky above ; and if 
Ernest Lyle saw from the celestial realms, his wrongs 
were and then, in a measure atoned for. Flinging my- 
self on the cold damp ground that covered the last of 
him, so good, so gifted, the icicles that hung about my 
heart melted, and streams like the heated lava of some 
burning volcano run down my cheeks. I called in vain 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 317 

for the well-remembered voice ; tlie low moaninsf of the 
wind in the tree-tops was my only reply ; but that night, 
on his grave, I determined to go to America, then wild 
and unsettled, and in a new land, far away from other 
scenes, live a life of usefulness, and, in some degree, 
atone for the wrong I had done. I left a note, telling 
my father of my course, begging him never to seek me. 

I gave him the full details of my intimacy and en- 
gagement with Ernest, and the fatal result. To each of 
my sisters I left a note, thanking them for all they had 
done for me, and hoping they would feel kindly towards 
their erring sister. Oh, those days of storms and sick 
ness were little heeded by me. A great grief was at my 
heart, and when the ship was tossed to and fro, and the 
white foam and sheeted spray lay beneath, and the 
heavens dark and murky above ; when naught but 
prayers and supplications for our own safety reached 
the ear, I calmly viewed it all. It seemed as if my heart 
had turned to stone, and hung a leaden weight within me. 

But at last our good ship arrived in the snug harbor 
of Boston, and there fresh trials awaited me. My child, 
it would be useless to narrate all that passed during 
those wretched j^ears of trial and privation. One night 
will do. I remember it was late in the fall, and a regu- 
lar New England autumn eve it was. I had gone out, 
not to enjoy its beauty, but to think over the past. 
'Twas seldom I allowed myself this indulgence, but 
that night my soul craved to commune with itself I 
had found a little knoll where the grass seemed the 
freshest, and where the last beams of the sun had ling- 
gered. This spot had often reminded me of the one far, 
far away, where slept my Ernest Lyle, and I held it 
sacred for the resemblance. 



318 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Sitting there, lost in deep thought, while the red dry- 
leaves fell fast about me, I exclaimed in the sorrow of 
my heart. 

" Lie there and turn to dust, 

As all life's hopes and wishes must." 

"Don't say that, Eva Barton. I cannot bear to hear 
it. Ever since I saw your pale face and sad eyes, 1 felt 
my heart go out to you. In vain have I tried to crush 
out the love I felt growing stronger and stronger, as 
each day I watched your patient toil and constant self- 
denial. Oh, I have so wanted to relieve you of burdens 
I knew you were not fitted to bear, but you have always 
repelled me, and made me feel that there was a barrier 
between us that could never be surmounted. But, 
E^a, oh ! let me call you this to-night ; I can bear any- 
thing but this suspense. I love you and cannot help it ; 
God knows how I have struggled to overcome it, but it 
is like fire — consuming and destroying me. Tell me, 
Eva, wily you treat me so coldly. Tell -me why you 
shat us all out from your confidence, and feed on some- 
thing which is killing you. Eva, am I not worthy? 
Have T ever proved myself ought but true to all? I 
love you, and no matter what has been, or what is to be, 
my heart is yours." 

1 gazed on the speaker in astonishment. I could not 
speak, for m}^ tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, 
and I was speechless. It was the son of my employer, 
and one whom I had always respected among all the 
young men in that thinly -settled neighborhood. None 
held the position of Richard Wilde. He had been kind, 
but he was so to all, and I never thought of love. 

"Have I offended you so much that yon will not 
dX)eak to me ?" he asked, in a sad voice. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 319 

I gave Mm my hand, and felt the burning kisses that 
was lavished on it. I felt a sensation as of ice breaking 
Tip from my heart, and tears hot and scalding rained 
down my cheeks — tears such as I had not shed since 
that night at the grave of Ernest Lyle. 'Twas some- 
thing to feel that strong arm about me after long years 
of solitude and loneliness , life had been bereft of all its 
hopes, and I felt that if I breathed and moved yet I was 
dead to all earthly objects. I was interested in no one, 
and little dreamed that any one was interested in me. 

That night I told my great sorroAv and self exile, and 
when I had finished I asked him if a broken, crushed 
heart, was fit mate for such love as his. 

He replied, "Thank Grod that you are mine, and 
time will accomplish all things." 

I felt stronger that night, and was glad to have some- 
thing to live for. Richard Wilde and I were married, 
and Heaven is my witness that evei;v- duty was dis- 
charged faithfully. He never murmured that my heart 
was buried beneath the sunny skies of Italy, or that his 
was not the first claim. He was too noble, too good for 
that, and now he is reaping his reward. We were 
blessed with children, but God saw fit to take them from 
us, and we bowed in submission to His will. One little 
flower was left to blossom here only to be shook and 
tossed till its leaves were withered, and its petals strewn 
to the wind. This was not all. He was taken when I 
thought to lean on him in tlie decline of life. 

Your father, child, is in a foreign clime ; he won a 
love that angels might have envied, and cast it from 
him. We saw the roses fade from her cheeks, and the 
lustre from her eye as the knowledge of her desertion 
dawned upon her. Business was his plea, and when 



O'^U SOUTHERN PRISONS", 

he first went away we believed him. At first letters 
came with glowing accounts of his success, and they 
breathed of love and constancy to his wife and our 
child. They grew shorter, and at last ceased altogether. 
All those weeks of painful suspense I will pass over. 
I forgive him the great wrong he has done us all, and 
you must. I have kept this from you till you was old 
enough to bear the double orphanage. 

I have suffered much ; I have borne the decree of 
heaven, and believe my sins are forgiven, and the past 
atoned. 

"I know there is rest for me there, and I shall be at 
peace." 

These last words were breathed in a whisper, and I 
waited for her to speak again. The fire burned low, 
and the candle had long since died out. The solemn 
stillness of the midnight hour, together with her history, 
awed my soul. I waited in vain for the soft tones of 
her silvery voice, but they came not. I, tried to rise 
but I felt a painful oppression. Summoning all my 
resolution, I rose and vigorously stirred the fire : a 
bright blaze burst from the smouldering brands ; it 
filled the room with its light, and rested on her I loved 
so well. I thought she had fallen asleep. Her hands 
lay folded in her lap, and her head rested on the back 
of her chair ; I went up to awake her, my heart burst- 
ing with the thought of all she had borne and suffered 
— when, O, horror-stricken ! I let fall the hand I had 
clasped in mine, for it was cold — the life had departed 
from out of that feeble tenement of clay, and she was 
with the loved, the lost ! " 

The old lady had spoken feebly and hesitatingly du 
i-ing the entire narrative, but I was ^lot prepared m a 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 321 

moment or two after its close to hear the child exclaim 
"My God ! she's dead ! " I hastened below, and found 
the little one weeping bitter tears over the inanimate 
form of her only protector. I soothed her as well as I 
could, and, on questioning her, found that her only 
neighbors were some ladies living a quarter of a mile 
distant. All the men had been impressed into the Rebel 
army, and there was hardly one to be found in the sec- 
tion. The position was an exceedingly embarrassing 
one for me, an escaped prisoner, a deserter from the 
Confederate service, in double peril, to be compelled to 
remain in this dangerous neighborhood and bury the 
old lady. But I felt that her kindness to me had de- 
served all kindness at my hands, and procuring some 
boards I constructed a rude coffin, and early next morn- 
ing we, with a few ladies in the neighborhood — all of 
whom supposed me to be a Confederate soldier, — laid 
the poor old lady in her grave. 

" Our lives are rivers gliding free 
To that unfatbom'd, boundless sea, 

The silent grave I 
Thither all earthly pomp and boast 
Roll, to be swallow'd up and lost 

In one dark wave." 

At once, upon the conclusion of the funeral, and after 
commending the child to the care of the ladies, wlu 
promised to watch over her, I hastened on my journey, 
feeling still very weak, as my rest at the house had been 
very much broken, and I had derived comparatively 
little benefit from tarrying. Yet I contrived to travel all 
day, and at night slept soundly upon a pile of brush, 
under the cover of a few boughs of trees constructed for 
a shelter. It rained, however, during the night and I 

41 



322 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

awoke drenched to the skin, stiff in my limbs, and hard- 
ly able to walk. Fortunately, after proceeding a few 
miles, I encountered a farm house of good appearance, 
and in my desperate plight I determined to risk all 
chances and seek rest and assistance at all hazards. On 
applying for admission, the door was opened by a young 
lady some nineteen years of age, whom I assured I was 
a Confederate officer, now on my way to my regiment in 
the Western army, having been wounded in the desper 
ate fighting before Atlanta, and that having fallen sick 
on the road, I sorely needed shelter and aid. She called 
me in, and while I warmed my chilled body at the cheer- 
ful log fire, slie consulted her mother. The latter most 
cordially proffered all the house could afford while I 
needed it, and, to my joy, I was authorized to take up 
my abode there for a time. I remained at this point, 
which I found was about forty miles from Florence, for 
several days, until I had comparatively recovered my 
strength, and then, after thanking the charming Miss 
Roberts and her hospitable mother for their great kind- 
ness, I struck out again. Not wishing to create any 
suspicion in the mind of Miss Roberts or her mother, 
who watched me from a side window as I left the house, 
I took the main road, intending to immerge into the 
woods just as soon as I could reach a point beyond their 
view. With my usual ill-luck, however, I encountered a 
body of the infernal Rebel cavalry before getting off the 
road. I dashed into the underbrush, but their pursuit 
was swift and skilful, and once more I found myself a 
prisoner, with the information that I should be taken 
back to Florence. I represented that I was a Confeder- 
ate officer, and strove hard to gain my release, but my 
captors assured me that they had a stern duty to per- 




;1 .- ^v?lO/;^\2^ 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITfE OF FLOEENCE. 3?3 

form, and must carry me to Florence, where my case 
could be investigated. I submitted, and complimented 
them upon the faithfulness they displayed to the cause, 
which compliment did not go unnoticed. That night we 
encamped in a patch of woods by the roadside, where 
we built a roaring fire, and my companions cooked theii 
rations, of which I obtained a respectable portion. Du- 
ring the night, however, I slept but little, but pondered 
over all the possibilities of escape. I could see no chance 
save by knocking down the single guard who was watch- 
ing me. At first he slowly paced round the circle of 
sleepers, humming fragments of songs, and muttering to 
himself, but at last wearied by his vigil, and supposing 
me to be sleeping as soundly as the others, he sat down 
upon the ground near to the fire, and after a little dozed 
ofi" into sleep. When I was satisfied that he was beyond 
the observation of things surrounding him, I quietly 
arose, seized a heavy stick of wood which lay on one 
side, and had been gathered for fire- wood, and struck 
him heavily on the head. I then rushed into the woods, 
making, however, as little noise as possible, and hurried 
forward some three or four miles. There seemed to be 
no pursuit, the sentinel probably having been stunned 
by the force of the blow. For a little time I walked on 
slowly, feeling quite confident that I had got away 
unperceived, but a little further progress revealed the 
alarming sounds of dogs barking behind me. I then 
supposed that the striking down of the guard had been 
quickly discovered, and abandoned all hope of escape 
at present. The hounds quickly drew near, and drove 
me up a tree, while they set themselves down at the 
base of it. A Rebel soldier on horseback rode up and 
demanded to know how I had got out of the stockade. 



324 SOTTTHEEN PEISOKS ; 

at tlie same time ordering me to come down ont of the 
tree. I saw at once that there was some mistake, and 
conjectured that other prisoners had probably recently 
escaped from the stockade, and that the hounds, in pur- 
suing them, had crossed my track and followed it. This 
proved to be correct. I, seeing that I would probably be 
so fortunate as to be taken as an escaped prisoner, and 
not as a Confederate deserter, came down, but refused 
to tell my captor anything concerning the mode of the 
supposed escaj)e. I was accordingly stirred up with the 
scabbard of my captor, but, proving obstinate, was ta- 
ken away to Florence. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 325 



CHAPTER XXV. 

ONCE MORE FREE. 

I am Brutally Treated on my Return to Florence. — Condition of 
the Prison. — Not a Friend Left. — I Escape to the Loyal League. 

Oh 1 give me liberty ! 

For were ev'n paradise my prison, 

Still I should long to leap the crystal walls. 

Dryden. 

I returned to Florence September 23d, and was 
interrogated by the commanding officer as to how I 
managed to escape, but to all such questions I refused 
to answer, and was at last sent to the guard house, 
while the guard was given strict orders what course to 
pursue in case I attempted to escape. Next morning I 
was taken to headquarters again, and the commanding 
officer finding me still obdurate, ordered me to be tied 
up by the thumbs. The guard took me to the front of 
the main gate, where was a large frame erected similar 
to that for a large swing. I was placed upon a small 
stool under the crossbeam, my thumbs were tied up by 
two small ropes depending from it, the stool was then 
knocked from under me, and I was swung off into the 
air. There I was left swinging for nearly half-an-hour, 
(it seemed to me a dozen) enduring indescribable an- 
guish, when the prisoners who had assembled near the 
main gate — which was always left standing open during 



326 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

the day, but was very strongly guarded — maddened by 
this horrible spectacle, and evincing a disposition to 
break out into open mutiny at all hazards, induced the 
commanding officer to order me to be taken down. I 
had lost all feeling, was almost senseles, and it was only 
with the greatest care from the Rebel surgeon that my 
life was saved. For two days thereafter I was kept in 
the guard house and then sent into camp. 

It was a beautiful day ; I remember it well ; and as 
the rays of a glorious sun poured their genial warmth 
and life into the houses and cabins of the dwellers in 
that favored land, lighting up their hearts, the same 
sun looked down upon a stockade of unhewn logs sur- 
rounding an area, within whose limits, crouched, or 
crept, or staggered, about twelve thousand living men, 
prisoners of war. Here the old scenes of Belle Isle and 
Andersonville were reinacted, starvation, sickness, dis- 
ease and suffering upon every side. Sad and hopeless 
of the future, men died like victims stricken with the 
plague. I first looked around the camp to see if I could 
find a friend, or any ono whom I knew, or even some 
of the old prisoners whose faces at one time were so 
familiar to my gaze, but sad to say not one could I see. 
They had gone to their last homes ; weary of life and 
suffering they nobly died for their country. 

" Give me the death of those 

Who for their country die ; 

And Oh I be mine like their repose, 

When cold and low they lie ; 

Their loveliest mother earth 

Enshrines the fallen brave, 

In her sweet lap who gave them birth, 

They find their tranquil grave." 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 327 

In this collection of men from all parts of the world, 
every phase of human character was represented. The 
stronger preyed upon the weaker, and even the sick, 
who were unable to defend themselves, were robbed of 
their scanty supplies of food and clothing. Dark sto- 
nes were afloat of men, both sick and well, who were 
murdered at night, strangled to death by their com- 
lades for scant supplies of money and clothing. I 
heard a sick and wounded prisoner accuse his nurse — 
a fellow prisoner of our arm\- — of having stealthily, 
during his sleep, inoculated his wounded arm with 
gangrene, that he might destroy his life and fall heir to 
his clothing. 

The action of the sun upon the putrefying mass ol 
excrement throughout the camp excited most rapid fer- 
mentation, and developed a most horrible stench. A 
vast majority of the prisoners were so reduced by con- 
finement, want of exercise, improper diet, and by scur- 
vy, diarrhoea and dysentery, that they were unable to 
evacuate their bowels within the stream or along its 
banks, and the excrement was deposited at the very 
doors of their underground huts ; in fact, a majority of 
the prisoners appeared to lose all repulsion to filth, and 
both sick and well disregarded all the laws of hygiene 
and personal cleanliness ; the rains of the autumn season, 
together with the constant tread of so many men, con- 
verted the interior at times into one vast bed of muddy 
slush nearly a foot deep — an aggregation of semi-liquid 
filth, through which the miserable prisoners unceasingly 
trampled in their unvarying round of pointless exist- 
ence. Then for some days the hot sun would pour 
down upon this quagmire, feculent with putrefaction, 
and draw from its depths vapors saturated with the 



328 SOTJTHERIS- PRISONS ; 

fetid stench that it exhaled, and which corrupted the 
air tliey had to inhale. As the prisoners increased in 
camp, so did their sufferings. With their faces black 
with smoke and dirt, their clothes in tatters, and im- 
pregnated with vermin, shoeless and hatless, now up to 
their knees in mud, then breathing the pestilential 
atmosphere which a September sun had evoked, the 
wonder is that human nature did not succumb more 
rapidly and in greater numbers than the irresponsible 
death registers indicated. As time rolled on, things 
grew worse and worse, until it would have seemed to a 
close observer almost impossible for any one to escape 
death, or starvation to such a degree that recovery 
would be out of the question, even if they were released 
immediately. During all this time our rations grew 
smaller, indeed to such a morsel that it was simply 
ridiculous to serve it out to us at all. Meanwhile my 
comrade died with starvation, and in order to secure a 
sufficient amount of food for myself to sustain life, I 
dug a hole in our underground hut and buried him ; I 
then told the sergeant of his squad that he was sick and 
could not possibly attend roll call, and upon these 
representations I succeeded in drawing his rations for 
several weeks, when the deceit was finally discovered. 
For this slight transaction, or in other words, violation 
of the law of the camp, I received nine lashes at the 
whipping post. I endured my punishment with much 
patience, but when I reflected for a moment upon this 
outrage against nature and humanity, upon this bar- 
barous practice of whipping one almost to death- in a 
civilized country, and in the nineteenth century, I felt 
that I could have stood upon that same post, and called 
upon the Almighty, powerful and supreme as He is, to 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENOIS. 35?9 

open tbe earth, and let hell swallow every Rebel in the 
Confederacy. Indeed it was some weeks before I could 
recover from this horrible and unchristianlike punish- 
ment. 

It was now over a month since I had left Josie at her 
lather's house and had been captured, during which 
time I could hear nothing of her. I watched every day 
at the open gate of my dismal and dreary prison in 
hopes of at least once more gazing upon her beautiful 
countenance ; but no, she did not come. 

At last, on a dark night in October, I determined to 
make another venture for liberty, and about midnight 
as near as I could judge, I emerged from my hole in the 
ground which I made my home, and securing a small 
plank about six feet long, I cautiously approached the 
dead line on the west side of the camp. I had nearly 
leached it when I saw the two sentries approaching on 
the top of the stockade. I threw myself upon the 
ground, and quietly waited until they met, exchanged 
salutes, and turning back, paced away. Then I cau- 
tiously approached the wall, placed my plank against 
it, carefully mounted the stockade and let myself down 
in safety upon the other side. The escape was quickly 
discovered, and hearing the firing of guns in my rear, 
I rushed out over rocks, through bushes, into streams, 
and never paused until I had placed several miles be- 
tween myself and hateful Florence. Then came the 
question what to do. Go to Josie' s house I could not 
for many reasons, mainly because my presence there 
would imperil both herself and her father. There was 
no room for delay ; if I hesitated I was lost, and I de- 
termined to push for the house of one of the Loyal 
League. The person whom. I selected at once was Mr. 

42 



330 BOUTHERN PRiso?>ra : 

Brown, whose house I had visited before with Josie, 
and I accordingly made as straight as I conld for his 
residence, knowing well its locality. As I approached 
his place early upon the following morning, I saw him 
entering his barn to care for his horses, and in a moment 
stood face to face with him. 



OR, JCSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 331 



CHAPTEE XXVI. 

PAROLE AT FLORENCE. 

The Loyal Leaguer's Home. — His Beautiful Daughter. — My Recap- 
ture. — My Parole and Interviews with my Wife. — Mr. Seymour's 
Departure for Europe. 

Over all men hangs a doubtful fate. 

Sir Jiobert JTozoard. 

Mr. Brown hardly knew me at first, but on my men- 
tioning Josie's name he recognized me, and at once cor 
dially tendered me the hospitalities of his house. I 
found him a generous, jovial, and above all a most 
trustworthy man, and in his daughter, Lizzie, my heart 
would certainly have found an object fully worthy of 
its affections, had they not been already preoccupied. 
She was a blonde, her ancestors being of northern birth, 
and had the pure sweet face, the golden hair and the 
deep blue eyes which are peculiar to this style of beauty. 
Her mother was a noble specimen of American matron- 
hood, and in her I first realized my ideal of the true 
wife in the sacred circle of home. 

"Indeed it is only within the circle of her domestic 
assiduity that we can judge of the true worth of a wo- 
man, or make a correct estimation of her forbearance, 
her virtue and her felicity. There are displayed all the 
finer feelings of which the pure heart of woman is sus- 
ceptible. It is in the midst of trial and suffering, mis- 



332 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

fortune and angnish, that the nobler traits of the true 
wife are displayed in all their characteristic grandeur. 
Adversity only increases the ardor of her attachment ; 
and the constancy and intensity of her devotion are such 
as no changes or chances can estrange or subdue. There 
are no recriminations to drive love away ; no violence to 
alienate the heart ; no neglect to impel to desperation. 
All is love, kindness and persuasion. Oh, what is more 
sweet, more calculated to enhance the value of domestic 
relationship, than for a man, cast down, worried, almost 
driven to despair, to turn his footsteps away from the 
busy world and mingle with the loved ones at home ! — 
to have a place where feeling and sympathy are mani- 
fested ; where glance responds to glance, and heart to 
heart — where the sweet musical voice of one nearest and 
dearest to the soul, life-inspiring, yet unobtrusive in its 
counsel, sends him forth again with a stronger shoulder 
to stem the tide of adversity. Few secrets are so impor- 
tant as that of knowing how to make home happy. 
Beauty of features is not necessary. Ordinary features, 
when lit up with the sunbeams of sensibility, generally 
excite the same passions which they express, and the 
winning attraction of their smile invests them with pecu- 
liar charms, like the variegated hues with which a bril- 
liant rainbow tints the gloomy clouds. The proud and 
dangerous gift of genius is not necessary. Let a woman 
possess what is infinitely more valuable — ^good common 
sense, and intellect sufficient to direct it in the most ap- 
propriate manner to all the practical purposes of life. 
Let there be truthfulness and integrity in her nature, 
strengthened by a thorough course of mental discipline, 
and it will not fail to give beauty and power to her 
thoughts and character. It does not consist in the ready 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINF OF FLORENCE. B33 

flow of conversation, captivating in its vivacity, brilliant 
in its fresli conceptions, charming in its polished sen- 
tences, dazzling in its witticisms, and instructive m its 
solidity. True, these qualifications, combined with those 
constituted to render home happy, may make a woman 
the embodiment of all which the most noble and ima 
ginative heart could wish or desire ; but they are not 
essentially necessary. A woman with ordinary features 
and ordinary abilities may make home very jaleasant and 
agreeable. And who would not prefer such a one to her 
who — no matter how beautiful or bewitching — puts on 
her smiles like her ornaments, and dresses her mind 
like her person, for company, in painted colors, ficti- 
tious charity, and pinchbeck benevolence ! 

The true secret of making home happy is to ham tlie 
heart in the right place! to have the charity to overlook 
foibles ; to learn to forgive and to forget, and never to 
be too proud to make concessions — ever, as it were in- 
tuitively, with a blind man's instinct, detecting those 
thousand little things that evince, in silence, a devotion 
and aflfection unspeakable. But, above all, the wife 
should possess that genuine piety which leads her to 
forget herself in seeking the glory of God and the hap- 
piness of her fellow beings. The useful attainments of 
life should be blended with the lighter accomplishments, 
and the attractive amenity of her manners should spring 
less from the polish of intercourse than from the inborn 
sweetness of her disposition. She must be a woman 
true to herself, her nature and her destiny — one daring 
to break away from the slavery of fashion and t>i3 al- 
lurements of pleasure, and to seek her happiness in the 
path of duty alone. She must be tender in her sympa- 
thy ; firm, yet not ostentatious in her piety — a woman 



334 SOTJTnERN PRISONS ; 

self-possessed, having the tranquil air of one conscious 
of her own moral strength, and of the existence of im- 
pulses and feelings too sacred to be lightly displayed to 
a world which has nothing in common with them, and 
which, therefore, in the ark of love at home, gush forth, 
like a leaping fountain, in all their fullness and their 
glory. She can be strong in the very reserve and shrink- 
ing delicacy of her character, and, even while appearing 
to waver, diffuse a tranquilising influence over all around 
her, like the falling of the pure, soft light, felt but not 
heard, swaying all by the magic cestus of her love. 

The pains the vdfe took to charm the husband before 
marriage should be doubled afterward. From that pe- 
riod they become a world of their own. The tie that 
binds them should be immaculate strength — impossible 
to be withered by the false refinement of vitiated society. 
To a husband wearied with toil, dejected in body and 
spirit, there is nothing so sweet as a look, a word, an 
act of kindness dictated by a good disposition. It is 
like dew to the flowers ; like water to the parched lips 
of a weary traveler over Asiatic dearth ; like the soft, 
cool hand of friendship on the fevered brow of the con- 
valescent. How rich a man must feel in the conscious- 
ness of possessing a woman' s love that cannot be wearied 
or exhausted, that cannot be chilled by selflshness, 
weakened by unworthiness, nor destroyed by ingrati- 
tude — a love that rises superior to the afflictions of mis- 
fortune, leaping from the heart of a woman who, when 
all the world forsake him, will be all the world to him." 
" 'T IS not m Hymen's gay propitious hour, 
With summer beams and genial breezes blest, 
That man a consort'3 worth approveth best; 
'T is when the SKies with gloomy tempests lower, 



OR JOSIE, THE HEKOIJNE OF FLOKENCE. 336 

When cares and sorrows all their torrents pour, 
She clasps him closer to her hallow'd breast, 
Pillows his head, and lays his heart to rest ; 
Drying her cheek from sympathetic shower." 

' While Mr. Brown repaired to the house of Mr. Sey- 
mour to bring Josie to me, Lizzie and I engaged a pe- 
riod of delightful conversation which developed the 
grace of her mind and the purity of her soul, and caused 
me to regard her as one of the most charming young 
women that I had ever met. She told me the leading 
events which had occurred in the neighborhood, since 
my leaving Mr. Seymour's house so suddenly, and in 
the midst of our entertaining conversation the noise of 
horses' hoofs approaching was heard, and amid some 
alarm lest the comers might be Rebel cavalry, Mr. 
Brown entered the house, accompanied by my darling, 
and entered the room we were sitting in. Josie wore her 
full riding habit, and looked more charming than ever. 
I clasped her, my wife — as I could now boldly call her — 
and as I pressed my lijis to hers and drew her yielding 
form down into my arms, I experienced the most pure 
and intense delight which my tossed soul has ever 
known. I whispered a thousand words of fond endear- 
ment to her ; her answering silence and close embrace 
were eloquent replies. I learned by degrees that her 
father was well, and that my absence had caused both 
countless sleepless nights and anxiety, which had almost 
robbed my darling's cheek of its bloom. Mr. Seymour 
desired to go to England still, but had taken no steps 
in tliat direction because he knew Josie would be unwill- 
ing to accompany him untU tidings were received from 
me. 

As evening advanced, not even the sweet companion- 



336 SOUTHERN prisons; 

ship of my darling could lull me into a sense of securi- 
ty, as I constantly felt apprehensive of recapture by a 
party of marauding Rebels. For hours, lured by the 
embraces of my young wife, I delayed at the house, re- 
volving many plans for placing my darling and myself 
in a i^lace of safety, but none seemed feasible, and at 
last I started up, startled by the barking of dogs, though 
evidently at a distance. There was no time to lose. I 
frantically embraced my weeping and almost heart-bro- 
ken young wife, and tore myself from her arms again 
with hardly a moment's notice. I hurried from the 
house, plunged into a stream of water, and waded in its 
bed for half a mile or so, to destroy the scent of the 
hounds, and then pushed out into the woods. But my 
strength seemed not so great as usual. The hounds, af- 
ter a couple of hours, got upon the scent again, and after 
a desperate flight until early morning, I was again over- 
taken and nearly torn to pieces before the master of the 
hounds came up. I was retaken and ignominiously 
taken back to Florence, where the commander gave me 
a ball and chain for three months, in consideration of 
my numerous escapes, and sent me into camp. I had 
hardly worn it two hours, however, before I released 
myself from the incumbrance by the old process. 

Upon the morning of September 28th there hung over 
our camp a dark cloud of sorrow, intermixed with 
gloom and silence ; and as I stood for some time view- 
ing the shadowy scene, the first tender tints of morning 
appeared on the verge of the horizon, stealing upon the 
darkness ; — so pure, so fine, so ethereal ; it seemed as if 
heaven was opening to the view. The dark mists were 
seen to roll off to the west as the tints of light grew 
stronger, deepening the obscurity of that part of the 



OR JOSIE, THE HEEOrisrE OF FIORENCF 337 

hemisphere, and involving the features of the country 
below ; meanwhile, in the east, the hues became more 
vivid, darting a trembling lustre far around, till a ruddy 
glow, which filled all that part of the heavens, announ- 
ced the rising sun. At first a small line of inconceivable 
splendor emerged on the horizon, which, quickly ex- 
panding, the sun appeared in all his glory, unveiling 
the whole face of nature, vivifying every color of the 
landscape, and sprinkling the dewy earth with glittering 
light. The low and gentle responses of birds, awakened 
by the morning ray, now broke the silence of the hour, 
their soft warbling rising by degrees till they swelled the 
chorus of universal gladness. My heart swelled with 
gratitude and adoration at the scene, though in a South- 
ern prison ; it soothed my mind, and exalted my thoughts 
to the great Author of nature, and my mind, losing the 
feelings which had so lately oppressed it, became 
tranquil and composed. 

After partaking of my breakfast, which consisted of 
a small piece of hard corn bread, — a healthy meal for 
one young and growing — I decided to stroll about the 
camp during the day and ascertain the real amount of 
suffering in my gloomy prison. Very few people, if any, 
could readily imagine the extent and magnitude of the 
suffering and hardships endured by our brave boys in 
that loathsome prison The sights that I saw upon this 
day will never leave my memory. Oh ! how could a 
civilized people be so barbarous and wicked. Fifteen 
thousand men crowded into an area of about twelve 
acres, scarcely giving them room to lie down, and all 
having no shelter, save wretched ^holes dug often by 
their hands in the earth The same horrible scenes were 
to be witnessed here as at Belle Isle and Andersonville , 
43 



338 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

men in all conditions of disease, famished, covered with 
sores and vermin, in miserable rags or half naked, and 
many praying to die. The so-called hospital was the 
usual mockery of the name ; a filthy pen, crowded, and 
with no convenience or comfort for the sick. One boy, 
not over sixteen, particularly excited my compassion. 
He was from New York, and had entered the service 
as a drummer, had been captured at Gettysburg, and 
had been a prisoner ever since. He told me where his 
home was in the distant North, — for he knew he was 
dying, — he handed me a pocket Bible and some other 
relics, and asked me, if I lived to return to our homes, to 
give them to his mother. A fearful storm raged that 
night, and the mind of the boy began to wander, as I 
could distinguish from his murmurs, and he slowly 
raised himself from his miserable couch, and with that 
bright intense light in the eyes which accompanies 
insanity and delirium of any kind, he muttered, "I'll 
do it." "I'll do it." I could form no conception of 
his intention, but soothed him, and sought to induce 
him to lie down and compose himself. Before I could 
take thought to prevent it, he started from me, burst out 
of the so-called hospital, and rushed towards the dead 
line with all the remaining strength he possessed. I 
pursued, but it was too late ; he swiftly approached it — 
crossed it — and as I involuntarily paused at his madness, 
I heard the sharp crack of a rifle, saw the boy plunge 
forward and fall heavily to the ground, and I knew he 
was dead at last by the bullet of the guard. I saw an 
old acquaintance die there whom I had known at Belle 
Island, but that was nothing, such was our treatment, 
while indeed the whole prison was one scene of unutter- 
able horror. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOI]S"E OF FLOKENCE. 339 

Upon tlie morning of October ITtli, the officer in 
command informed me that some one was waiting at the 
main gate who desired to see me. Having dreamed of 
my darling constantly since my incarceration, I instantly 
concluded it was Josie ; nor was I deceived, for I found 
her standing at the gate, and the smile which irradiated 
her face was a harbinger of good news. And so it 
proved, as she informed me she had made arrangements 
for getting me temporarily released upon a parole of 
honor. I was at once relieved of my ball and chain, 
and at nine o' clock the next morning I received a parole 
from the commanding officer, and a new suit of clothes 
from my wife, and was set at work chopping cord wood 
for the use of the prisoners in camp. This parole Josie 
had obtained through the intercession of Capt. Walker, 
the Atlanta commanding officer, who had long known 
and admired her, and who was now visiting at her fa- 
ther's house. Of course neither of the two communi- 
cated to Capt Walker the fact of the daughter being 
married to a Union soldier, and he supposed lier still 
unmarried altogether. So when she told him she had 
taken pity on a prisoner confined at Florence, and 
would gladly do something to alleviate his condition ; 
the Captain willingly and gallantly visited the com- 
mander at Florence, and possessed sufficient influence 
with him to procure the desired favor, and I was there- 
fore given a sort of liberty. 

The blessing of communication with my darling was, 
however, but short. One evening, very soon after I 
received my parole, I met her at dusk as agreed upon, 
and we walked out into the forest — my presence at the 
prison only being required in the morning, as there was 
but one roll call each day — and as we massed slowly 



340 eouTHEEN prisons; 

along, whispering vows of eiernax love and fidelity, and 
exchanging those confidences which had now gained for 
us a new delight, we met Mr. Seymour walking to- 
wards us — he having previously agreed with Josie to 
meet us at this point, not wishing to be seen at head- 
quarters. His cheeks were pale, and his whole count- 
enance betokened despair, while his lips trembled as 
he gave utterance to a few kind words of welcome. 
Our gathering soon revealed the unhappy fact that we 
must soon separate, Mr. Seymour' s position having be- 
come so critical in view of the coming destruction of the 
Southern Confederacy, that he felt it imperative to fly 
at once to Europe. Josie would not accompany him 
and leave me in peril at the South, and hence it became 
clear that we must part. Mr. Seymour gave me his 
address, which was to be Liverpool, England, and it was 
arranged that Josie should be committed to the protec- 
tion of ine Loyal Leaguer, Mr. Brown, until I should be 
released or discharged, which I felt could not be an 
event very far distant, as the success of the North was 
becoming more assured each day. Mr. Seymour had 
made all the necessary preparations, was now ready to 
start, and had determined to take the evening train for 
Wilmington, from which port he expected to sail upon 
his final trip. After an hour's conversation, during 
which time everything was satisfactorily arranged, and 
plainly understood between us, as to the course we were 
to pursue, Mr. Seymour gave us his farewell blessing, 
and with tears in his eyes, hastily left us, almost heart- 
broken at the thought of so soon parting from his 
daughter, while Josie and I engaged in a mournful 
interview of more than an hour. Embraces, protesta- 
tions of love, and bitter regret at the sad fate which 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 341 

severed ns, were the chief constituents of our parting. 
Our feelings were too deep for words, and our only con- 
solation in this bitter hour of affliction was that we felt 
the certainty that each would prove unalterably true to 
the other through all changes and all perils. With a 
last yearning embrace, and a last kiss of love, I tore 
myself from her arms and sadly returned to my prison 
home, while she, under the escort of Bob, who had re- 
mained at a discreet distance during our interview, 
repaired to the mansion. Upon my return to my lonely 
cabin, I found all my companions asleep, and I quietly 
sat down to review the past. My mind was oppressed 
with thought, and for hours I sat by my little window 
looking out upon the beautiful landscape, musing over 
my own solitary condition, before seeking my couch to 
rest. 

*' Thoughts flit and flutter through the mind, 

As o'er the waves the shifting wind ; 

Trackless and traceless is their flight, 

As falhng stars of yesternight, 

Or the old tide-marks on the shore, 

Wnich other tides have rippled o'er." 

For me, this was a gloomy hour, and dark forebodings 
of the future tilled my heart. Mr. Seymour's voj^age 
was full of peril, and its result could be foretold by no 
human gaze. Capture by the Federal cruisers would 
imply a long imprisonment, perhaps great financial loss. 
Even though he escaped to England safe, he was three 
thousand miles away, where he could hardly be of ser- 
vice to myself or to his daughter. The future opened 
no prospect of immediate relief from these gloomy sur- 
roundings. I could not help being oppressed by the 
dark clouds which seemed to be settling down about the 



342 SOUTHEEN PKISONS ; 

lives of those who were dear to me, and about my own. 
Was it strange that my musings were of a bitter sort, 
and that there seemed few rays of hope shedding serene 
light over a cheerless and melancholy scene ? Yet my 
courage did not forsake me. I calmly awaited the issue 
of events, which, perhaps, were not so fraught with des- 
pair as some of those encountered before. 



OR. JOSIE, THE HEROIjSTE OF FLORENCE. 343 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

WAITING FOR EXCHANGE. 
My Parole Withdrawn. — The Position of my Wife. — Continued Im- 
prisonment at Florence. — I Determine no Longer to Attempt Escape. 
— Final view of my Prison Experience. 

" And these vicissitudes tell best in youth ; 

Adversity is the first path to truth : 

He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage. 

Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty. 

Hath won the experience which is deemed so weighty." 

Byron 

My parole of honor continued in force for a number 
of days, during which I received daily visits from Josie, 
and after long and delightful interviews, she each even- 
ing returned to her home, accompanied by the ever 
faithful Bob. Josie had now retired to the home of Mr. 
Brown, the Loyal Leaguer, — Mr. Seymour having dis- 
posed of all his property, including his residence, pre- 
vious to his departure for Europe — to whose care she 
had been entrusted until I should be able to get free from 
the hands of the Rebels, and take my position as my 
wife' s natural and rightful protector. 

Within a short time after this change occurred, how- 
ever, I was most unexpectedly deprived of my liberty, 
so far as it extended, by an order restricting me within 
the walls of the prison, and condemning me to wear a 



344 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

ball and chain. I conjectured at the time, both the 
cause and the author of the deed, and subsequent 
developments proved fully the correctness of my conclu- 
sions. It mil be remembered that it has been previously 
explained, that Captain Walker had formerly been an 
admirer of the lady now my wife, and Josie had told 
me, that since his coming from Atlanta to the vicinity of 
Florence, he had paid her marked attention, and seemed 
strongly disposed to declare himself a suitor for her 
hand. She had avoided his addresses almost entirely, 
yet being under some obligation to him because of his 
intercession on my behalf, the poor girl was placed in a 
very embarrassing position, and during her residence at 
the home of Mr. Brown, was often annoyed by his atten- 
tions. That worthy gentleman, however, took good care 
that these attentions should never go farther than com- 
pliment, and Josie always studiously avoided him, so 
that his suit never blossomed into prosperity. But for 
some reason, probably from some report which reached 
him of our having been observed together often. Captain 
Walker had conceived a violent jealousy of me, and this, 
I conjectured and afterwards learned, was the cause of 
my parole being withdrawn. And in this connection it 
may be well to end Captain Walker s history, so far as 
I ever learned it. He stayed in the vicinity of Florence 
until Sherman's victorious troops approached Charles- 
ton, when he went to the latter city, and in a skirmish 
between the armies was taken prisoner by the Union 
forces. Of his subsequent history I knoAv nothing. 

From this time forward I was kept in close confine- 
ment at Florence, and I was utterly unable to procure a 
single interview with Josie, no doubt through the con- 
tinued malignity of Captain Walker. The reader can 



ttAter^r t£l^WiW'fS^^&fW^3m 




M.Y Parole y/iTHnRAWN 



1 



OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 345 

imagine with what feelings I endured this galling bond- 
age, cut off from all association with my own dear wife, 
whom I so tenderly loved, for whose affection I had 
undergone so much, and who was hopelessly separated 
from me by the space of only a few miles. Under all 
the agony of this position, I had, hoAvever, two consola- 
tions ; first, that my darling was safe at the home of a true 
man, watched over and cherished by a loving family, and 
cheered and sustained by the sweet companionship of 
Lizzie, her protector' s daughter, in whom she could wholly 
confide ; second, that no very great length of time could 
now elapse before the triumphant Union armies should 
sweep every horrible prison pen in the South out of 
existence. I felt that I had endured the climax of Rebel 
outrage and wrong, and that whatever might be the pri- 
vations and sufferings of the next few months, they 
could not kill me, sustained and beckoned on by a beau- 
tiful and pure woman' s love. Indeed, I believe I should 
have lived on despite any cruelty or privation in mere 
defiance of the barbarous Rebels. Life had lately grown 
wonderfully sweet to me, so sweet that I had entirely 
lost that recklessness which characterized my career un- 
til I had learned to know the wealth given to me in the 
love of my wife, and to prize it duly. I had ceased to 
plot escapes, recoUing now from the risks which invari- 
bly attended them, and anxious to preserve a life which 
might grow so full of happiness. Besides all previous 
escapes, though often skillfully conceived, and promising 
most fairly, had altogether miscarried, and I had no 
reason to believe that those which I might devise in fu- 
ture would turn out any more successful. On the 
whole, then, I determined now to await quietly the 

events of the winter, confident that the coming spring 
u 



346 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

would result in a glorious victory for the ISTorth, and 
break the shackles of every Union prisoner at the South. 

Meanwhile, as winter approached, matters at Florence 
steadily grew worse. The weather became colder — often 
severely so — notwithstanding the Southern latitude of 
the town. The rations were steadily diminished, until 
they hardly constituted enough to maintain a man' s life ; 
the clothing became worn out, and many men were half 
naked at even this inclement season, and the general 
condition of things became truly deplorable. Often men 
were found frozen to death in the morning, sometimes 
as many as twenty at a time. 

It has been often said that the world does not know 
its greatest men, and certainly the grandest acts of her- 
oism are often performed by men in the humblest sta- 
tion. What are the grandest acts of heroism 1 Not 
such as are narrated by the historian as illustrating the 
world' s battle-fields, though leading a forlorn hope, or 
planting the country's flag upon the deadly rampart 
from which it had been shot away, justly excite our 
admiration. Deeds yet more heroic are done in the 
fevered wards of hospitals, on the ship' s deck upon the 
stormy sea, in the mine far below the earth' s surface, in 
lonely vigils on light boats, in many places where no eye 
but that of Omniscience witnesses them. The grandest 
and most brilliant, if not the noblest, exhibition of devo- 
tion to duty, under the most fearful trial to which human 
nature could possibly be subjected, is the firmness of 
our Union prisoners during all their trials and sufierings, 
to stand firm to the Union cause. Their deeds demand 
the warmest and wddest recognition ; for it needs no fine 
woras to embellish them. The simplest recital of the 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIK-E OF FLOEEIS-CE. 347 

facts sufBces for placing their actions before the world 
as worthy of its homage. 

You fathers who bade your sons answey the call of their 
country during its gloom, war and bloodshed, can you 
forbear bitter thoughts when you read of the treatment 
they met with in Southern prisons, the terrible suffering 
they passed through, their fearful agony, their dread- 
ful death ? And you, kind mothers, who have watched 
over and cared for that beautiful blue-eyed youth for 
so many years, with delightful hopes as to his future ; 
you who have spent wakeful nights in walking the 
floor of your chambers, with your only boy in your 
arms during his sickness in babyhood, you who bore 
that chiid^ amidst poverty and sickness ; j^ou whose 
son was the star and delight of the circle in which he 
moved before his enlistment, and the pride of all friends, 
have you ever thought seriously, carefully of his awful 
end? 

But this is enough. No more upon this point, which 
awakens in your hearts every remembrance of the dead. 
I would not cause fresh tears to flow down those pale 
cheeks that are scarcely dry from others shed before ; 
neither do I wish to open the old wounds afresh, for 
they have bled enough. Your boy suffered before 
death, he now enjoys the reward which is given to the 
brave. Your husband has gone ; he will be with you 
no more upon this earth, his last prayers were for you, 
and for his loved ones. Let us hope we may meet him 
in heaven. 

As this prison at Florence was the last one in which 
I was confined previous to my being exchanged, and as 
there cannot be anything more said upon the subject of 
prison life without repeating what I have already 



348 SOUTHEEIT prisons; 

spoken of, I now deem it due to myself and my readers 
to make a few closing remarks as regards my prison 
life, and what I saw, and where I traveled, though I 
cannot admit that the subject of imprisonment is fully 
exhausted, but, as 1 have already stated, no pen can 
adequately describe its suffering and horror. From the 
date of my capture to that of my release, I was con- 
fined between thirteen and fourteen months, during which 
time not fewer than 80,000 or 90,000 prisoners — that is in 
all the prisons — perished from sickness, exposure and 
starvation. I made six different escapes, traveling a 
distance of about fifty miles upon each occasion, (that 
is about what it would average.) I traveled through all 
the principal cities in the greater part of the South, 
learning the habits and manners of the people as I 
passed on. I was also confined in fourteen diff'erent 
prisons, a great many of which I have made no mention 
of, they all being similar ; have talked with hundreds 
of rebel officers and soldiers, and was released from 
prison twice upon a parole of honor. I handled and 
helped to bury about 5,000 of our prisoners who died, 
and was four times placed in the " stocks," a most bru- 
tal punishment. I also wore a ball and chain at diff'er- 
ent times for two months. Was twice placed in irons, 
was three weeks in a dungeon at Castle Thunder in 
Richmond, and was once threatened with being hung 
upon the scaffold for breaking mj^ parole of honor. I 
was also twice afflicted with the scurvy. And it was in 
these frightful prisons that men might be seen with one 
leg buried in the earth, sometimes both, and occasion- 
ally one would be noticed buried up to his neck, and 
fed in that way for eight or ten days. This was the 
system they adopted for curing the scurvy, the men not 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEROIIirE OF FLORET^^CE. 349 

being able to obtain vegetables for that purpose. Dur- 
ing my captivity I also had a full view of many of the 
Rebel camps at different points, and when I think of 
the Rebel armies that I have seen, I can scarcely help 
looking back upon them now with feelings half frater- 
nal. They were ragged and reckless to be sure, yet 
they were always careful to keep their bayonets bright, 
and their lines of battle well dressed, reduced some- 
times to dire extremities, yet always ready for a fight ; 
rough and rude, yet knowing well how to make a field 
illustrious. "Who can forget them," (says a prom- 
inent officer of our army,) "the brave, bronzed faces 
that looked at us for four years across the flaming pit ; 
men with whom in a hundred fierce grapples we fought 
with remorseless desperation, and all the terrible en- 
ginery of death, until on the one side and the other a 
quarter of a million men fell, and j^et whom we never 
hated, except that they struck at the old flag?" 

In this faithful history of the events, the barbarities 
and the sufferings of an imprisonment for little over a 
year among men whose names have become a word of 
reproach, who are universally recognized as "Rebels," 
the most atrocious since the fallen angels became rebels 
against high heaven, it has only been possible for me 
to depict a fragment of the truth. Mind cannot, un- 
aided, conceive the hells through which brave Union 
soldiers endured for years and died, and which have 
left their indelible stamp upon most who survived, in 
ruined constitutions and horror-stricken minds The 
world cannot present such another spectacle as that of 
government authorities, in a Christian age and land, 
with their people looking on and applauding, deliber- 
ately, coolly, and with the malice of fiends, working out 



350 SOTJTHERW PBISOIS-S ; 

a slow process of torture upon 100,000 brave men, 
whom no fault of their own, but the demands of an out- 
raged country, and the fortune of war, always uncer- 
tain, had placed in their hands. For this scheme of 
horrible brutality the Confederate leaders, and at least 
some of their tools, will rank immortal in the annals of 
stupendous crime. As one of these unfortunates, 
and as a Michigan soldier, I do here place upon record 
my testimony of the heroic bravery, the calm fortitude, 
the patient suffering, and the martyr deaths of those 
soldiers of the nation who died in Southern prisons. 
And I do execrate, as they deserve, the inhuman and 
hellish acts of our oppressors, of the same race, of the 
same language, and but yesterday brothers, with us in 
amity. I desire that future generations may here 
read and properly appreciate the deeds of these fiends ; 
deeds which turned this land into mourning ; deeds 
which must leave their ineradicable effects to pass into 
the next generation, and cause misery and sorrow there ; 
deeds which stamp their perpetrators as the most in- 
famous wretches of all time, and for which they must 
yet answer to an offended God. The monuments in the 
Union prison cemeteries at the South bear simple inscrip- 
tions. They only tell that these men died at Anderson- 
ville or Florence, or it may be Belle Island, but the 
citizen, in future, reading these simple inscriptions, will 
never be able to efface from his mind the fact that these 
monuments are not only commemorative of the dead, 
but equally so of the stupendous wickedness of those 
men, leaders and followers, who pursued these prison- 
ers, unarmed and defenceless, to a painful and linger- 
ing, but heroic death. The nation mourns her brave. 
She asks their lives of her own people, but the only 
answer can be that they are gone. Slain by her own 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOIT^E OF FLOEENCE. 351 

citizens, dead of famine and cruelty perpetrated by her 
own family ; the old ties of brotherhood disregarded 
and forgotten ; even the bonds of womanly affection 
loosened. Verily these men who thus treated their 
Union prisoners were fiends of hell. 

" Hell at last 

Yawning receiv'd them whole, and on them closed, 
Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire 
Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain." 

Nothing but the constitution of Southern society 
could have given rise to such a race of human mon- 
sters ; a society which was born of power unrestrained, 
of lust unregulated, and barbarity uncontrolled. It is 
probable that no other land on the face of the globe 
could have produced a race of men so utterly regardless 
of all the amenities of civilized life, as were those South- 
ern Rebels. They will stand in American history as 
models of ferocity, of brutal treatment towards unfor- 
tunate captives, and of high-handed and wicked rebel- 
lion towards the national government. 

How shall Jefierson Davis, Generals Winder, Lee, 
and Captain Wirtz, and other oificials, answer to an 
ofi'ended God for the safety of well loved sons whom 
He, in the inscrutable mystery of his ways, put into 
their hands ? They must stand convicted before high 
heaven of torture and murder, and no conventionalities 
can wash their deep and dark sins away. They must 
remain for all time in the history of the American Re- 
public, the chief plotters in a scheme of unparalleled 
wickedness and crime. Their unrelenting cruelty made 
martyrs of ninety thousand heroes, men whose very 
countenances betokened their gallantry, and whose 



352 SOXTTHEEN PEISOI^S ; 

bodies were covered with scars contracted amid the furi- 
ous storm of battle ; men whose names are carved out 
in golden letters upon imperishable monuments, and 
whose patriotism and noble deeds are the most refulgent 
glories of our national history. By heaven ! I say, let 
all earth bear witness to their deeds of blood and cruel- 
ty, and testify to their torture and starvation of Union 
prisoners, that they may be execrated by the world's 
noblest sons. 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLORENCE. 35i 



CHAPTER XXYIII. 

OTHER SOUTHERN PRISOXS. 

The Leading places of Confinement at the South not Already Described. 
— Treatment of the Officers. — Junius Henri Browne on the Treat- 
ment of the Prisoners at Salisbury. — Intense Suffering and Whole- 
sale Murder of the Captives. — Pen Pictures of the Prison. — Agoni- 
zing Scenes. — Enlistment of our Soldiers in the Rebel Service. — 
Shuddering Strangeness of the Past. — The Secretary of War Re- 
sponsible for the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives. 

A prison is in all things like a grave 
Where we no better privileges have 
Than dead men ; nor so good. 

Bishop Chichester. 

I have thus described what took place as experienced 
by myself within the various principal prisons of the 
South in which I was confined. There were, however, 
several others of note, or rather notoriety, and to make 
the picture entirely complete and truthful, I propose to 
give a sketch of the general character of the principal 
of them, which I have ascertained from careful investi- 
gation, and through full conversation and consultation 
with prisoners who had been therein confined. 

Amongst the foremost of these was the Libby Prison 
at Richmond, where officers where generally held in 
durance, where many Union men died, and from which 
not a few made gallant and perilous escapes. The 

45 



354 SOUTHERN PUISONS ; 

building was an old tobacco factory, rough enough 
both on the outside and inside, but affording in the 
great, barrack-like rooms, at least sheltei!' from the in- 
clemencies of the weather and warmth. The rations 
furnished to the officers, tliough course, were generally 
comparatively sufficient in quantity, and they did not 
suffer from hunger, as did the privates. With vermin 
they were compelled to contend, as did the private 
soldiers, their personal appearance being neglected per- 
force in such a crowd that thronged the old warehouse, 
and the appliances for washing and general cleanliness 
being most woefully disregarded by the Rebels as an 
unvarying rule. They were also searched when taken 
there, as were the privates, and everything in the way 
of valuables taken from them. Sometimes, too, though 
not as a rule, they were subjected to gross insults and 
indignities at the hands of Rebel officers who chanced 
for a time to be in command over them, and to want the 
first quality of an officer and gentleman, generosity and 
delicacy to a brave foe whom the fortune of war had 
placed in his hands. But as a general thing, the treat- 
ment of the officers was widely different from that ac- 
corded to the privates, and they never suffered one-hun- 
dreth part of what was endured by those upon whom 
fell the brunt of the war. At Libby Prison, at various 
times, there were confined Gen. O. B. Wilcox, of Michi- 
gan, whom every one now knows ; Col., (or as he after- 
wards became) Gen. Michael Corcoran, whose accidental 
death the country so deeply regretted in the tail of 1863, 
and whose fame in New York was attested by the great- 
est funeral procession that ever turned out in that city, 
though as all will remember who were present on the 
occasion, the day was eminently unpropitious, the sky 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 855 

being obscured by gloomy clouds, and occasionally driz- 
zling showers of rain descending ; notwithstanding 
which, Broadway was packed full by the procession, 
extending, as it did at one time, from the Battery to the 
Park at Fourteenth street. So, too, Col. Streight, of 
raiding fame, was afterwards shut up in Libby by the 
Rebels, who bore him an especial ill-will because of his 
forays through Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, 
which among the first demonstrated to them the im- 
mense damage which the Union cavalry could, and 
was about to do them by great incursions into their ter- 
ritory, rutting up railroads, destroying bridges, and 
(;arrying off provisions ; yes, even burning all those 
which they could not carry off, and even still further, 
the mills which alone enabled the people of the South 
to grind their meal, and thus prepare the materials out 
of which their food was to be made. His last expedi- 
tion, however, was unfortunate. He was ordered on a 
raiding foray through Northern Georgia and Alabama. 
He had a provisional brigade from Rosecran's army, 
and to mount them he was furnished with mules. This 
class of animals might have answered well enough had 
they been of the proper age, and capable of bearing 
fatigue. As it was, they averaged but about two years 
old, and broke down very soon after Streight had com- 
menced his campaign ; another instance of the murder- 
ous scoundrelism of many contractors during the war. 
Streight was pursued by the Rebel General Forrest, 
whose name is destined to go down to infamy, as the 
"Butcher of Fort Pillow," and after four or five battles 
with a largely superior force, was compelled to succumb 
near Rome, Georgia, after having lost about one- third 
of his force. On Streight, while confined in Libby 



356 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Prison, the Rebels lavished every indignity which rage 
and malice could suggest. 

In Libby Prison, too, the officers were allowed books, 
which they read and often studied hard. Many an officer, 
during the long dreary hours of captivity, cultivated a 
knowledge of Latin, Greek, French, or the sciences 
which has proved an incalculable advantage in his sub- 
sequent career. 

I do not speak of these differences between the con- 
dition of the officers or privates individually, or with 
any desire that they might have suffered as did the pri- 
vates, but simply as matters of fact, and especially for 
two weighty reasons ; first, the accounts of life in the 
Rebel prisons published hitherto, have been almost en- 
tirely the work of men confined in prison with the Union 
officers, and who gathered all their information from 
the spectacles presented there. Such were particularly 
the two correspondents of the New York Tribune^ 
Messrs. Richardson and Browne, who were taken at 
Vicksburg. My second reason is, because the horrible 
barbarities practiced upon the privates were, through- 
out the war, and are to a great degree yet, only par 
tially believed by the American people, and were so 
doubted by these very officers, not from any want of 
interest in the fate of their men, but simply from want 
of opportunity to form any adequate judgment. 

I have already spoken somewhat of Castle Thunder, 
another notorious place of imprisonment in Richmond. 
The commander was, during most of the time. Captain 
George W. Alexander, an ex-Marylander, and who at 
one time was assistant engineer in the United States 
Navy. As a general rule he was kind enough to the 
prisoners, though pompous and vain, and sometimes 



OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREI^CE. 357 

getting angry quite suddenly, during which periods he 
raved and stormed about like a mad man ; "but the tu- 
mult was soon generally quieted, and that without any 
serious results having been occasioned. 

Castle Thunder generally contained about 1,500 in- 
mates, at least towards the close of the war, who were thus 
huddled together, altogether too closely for comfort or 
health. Its inmates were not usually prisoners of war 
technically, but Northern citizens, Southern Unionists, 
deserters, and a few negroes. Sometimes prisoners who 
were retaken after an attempted escape, were thrust 
into its gloomy cells, and it had a few condemned cells 
in which were confined prisoners ordered to be executed 
for various offences. Its reputation abroad was gen- 
erally worse than that of Libby Prison, but it was not 
usually so much worse as to have occasioned much re- 
mark, except from the gloom that attached to its dark 
cells, from which many a man only came forth to die. 

Both from Castle Thunder and Libby Prison many 
escapes were made which have become famous, but the 
ease with which these escapes were often effected, de- 
pended upon the nearness of the Union lines, which a 
resolute push of four or five nights would readily reach. 
On the other hand, the difficulty with us at Anderson- 
ville, away down in Georgia, in the very heart of the Con- 
federacy, consisted not in the men getting away from the 
prison, but in the dangers to be encountered during the 
long march which must be undergone afterwards, and 
the probabilities that before it was finished, the fugitive 
would be so unfortunate as to stumble upon a prowling 
band of Rebels, and have all his anxiety, labor and 
risk for nothing, as occurred to myself when on the 
borders of East Tennessee. Had I remained at Belle 



368 SOTTTHERN PRISONS ; 

Island I have no doubt, whatever, that I should have 
been out of the hands of the enemy long before that 
event actually happened. 

At Salisbury, ^. C, was still another place of con- 
finement, the building being the Confederate States 
Penitentiary. It was a brick building, and originally 
intended for a cotton warehouse. There were also 
standing around it some five or six smaller brick build- 
ings, and all these were usually filled with prisoners, 
chiefly Northern citizens. Southern Unionists, Confed- 
erate deserters, who were thought not fit to be trusted 
again in the ranks as yet, and whom yet the Govern- 
ment did not see fit to shoot. Attached to this prison, 
however, was a court yard of some four acres, in which 
the prisoners were, most of them, allowed to walk dur- 
ing much of the daj^ and thus enjoyed not only com- 
parative liberty, but fresh air and health. Later, how- 
ever, in the war, the condition of affairs at Salisbury 
prison materially changed. Some ten thousand regular 
prisoners of war were crowded into the narrow quarters, 
and the same horrible scenes of misery and death as 
occurred at Andersonville, though upon a smaller scale, 
horrified the prisoners brought there before, who had 
previously entertained no conception that such things 
actually existed, nothwithstanding the tales which had 
already been circulated concerning the hellish treatment 
to which the Union privates were subjected. 

Of the treatment of the Union prisoners at Salisbury, 
Junius Henri Browne, in his work entitled " Four Years 
in Secessia," says : 

"After nine months of confinement, at Salisbury, some 
ten thousand enlisted men were sent thither from Rich- 
mond and other points ; and then began a reign of pam 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKti^INE OF FLORENCE. 369 

and horror such as I had believed oould not exist in this 
Republic under any circumstances. 

Our poor soldiers had been robbed of their blankets, 
overcoats, often their shoes and blouses, and were sent 
there in inclement weather, and turned for some weeks 
into the open inclosure without shelter. 

After a while they were given tents capable of accom- 
modating about half their number ; and there they began 
to sicken and die from cold and hunger — the rations 
being sometimes only a piece of corn bread in forty-eight 
hours, until the daily mortality ranged from twenty-five 
to forty -five per day. 

The soldiers dug holes in the earth and under the dif- 
ferent buildings in the yard, constructed mud huts and 
shelters of baked clay, showing extraordinary energy 
and industry to shield themselves from wind and storm. 
But their attire was so scant, and their diet so mean and 
meager, that they died necessarily by hundreds. 

Hospital after hospital — by which I mean buildings 
with a little straw on the floor, and sometimes without 
any straw or other accommodation — was opened, andth- 
poor victims of Rebel barbarity were packed into them 
like sardines in a box. 

The hospitals were generally cold, always dii'ty and 
without ventilation, being little less than a protection 
from the weather. 

The patients — God bless them, how patient they were! 
— had no change of clothes, and could not obtain water 
sufficient to wash themselves. 

Nearly all of them sufiering from bowel complaints, 
and many too weak to move or be moved, one can ima- 
gine to what a state they were soon reduced. 

The air of those slaughter-houses, as the prisoner 



860 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

were wont to call them, was overpowering and pestifer- 
ous. It seemed to strike you like a pestilential force on 
entrance, and the marvel was it did not poison all the 
sources of life at once. 

Imagine nine or ten thousand scantily clad, emaciated 
woe-begone soldiers — unnamed heroes, who had battled 
for our sacred cause on twenty blood-drenched fields — 
in an inclosure of five or six acres, half of them without 
other shelter than holes they had dug in the earth, or 
under the small buildings employed as hospitals. 

The weather is cold ; perhaps a chilly rain is falling, 
or the ground is covered with snow. There are the sol- 
diers — hundreds of them with naked feet, and only light 
blouses or shirts, hungry, feeble, despairing of the Pre- 
sent and hopeless of the Future — huddling over a small 
and smoky fire of green wood, in a crowded tent, whose 
very atmosphere is poisonous ; or standing shivering 
against the outside of the chimneys of the squalid hos- 
pitals, hoping to warm their blood a little from the par- 
tially heated bricks ; or drawn up in their narrow caves, 
inhaling the curling emanations of the burning pine, and 
striving to shelter themselves from the bitter wind ; or 
begging, with pallid and trembling lips, for shelter at 
the door of those lazar-houses where their companions 
in arms are lying in dirt, distress, and despair, breathing 
out their lives at the rate of thirty and forty a day. 

Look into those hospitals — strange perversion of the 
name ! — which are small brick and log buildings, twenty- 
five by sixty feet, and see how a people who boast of 
their generosity and chivalry can treat the prisoners they 
have taken in honorable warfare. 

There lie the prisoners, in the scant and tattered 
clothes they were graciously permitted by the Rebels to 



OR, JOSIE. THE HEROIlsrE OF FLOEEI^'CE. 361 

keep, filthy from the impossibility of obtaining water to 
wash themselves, with no beds nor bedding, no covering 
even, perchance without straw ; tossing and groaning 
their miserable lives away. 

Fires blaze at one end. it may be at both ends of the 
tenements ; but the heat extends not far, and the cold 
wind rushes in from the broken windows and through 
the crevices in the walls ; while the air is mephitic and 
noisome to such a degree, that when you breathe it first 
it is almost suffocating. 

What a ghastly line of faces and figures ! To have 
seen them once is to remember them always. They are 
more like skeletons in rags than human beings. Ever 
and anon some of them rise and strive to obey such calls 
as Nature makes ; and a companion, less weak and 
wasted than they, bears them, as if they were children, 
over the dirt-incrusted floor, and lays them down again 
to suffer to the end. 

Here lies a boy of sixteen or seventeen, whose mother, 
in some far-off' Northern home, is praying for him every 
night and morning ; to whom sisters are wiiting words 
of cheer and sympathy he will never see — muttering in 
fever, and beckoning with shrunken hands to forms no 
mortal eye can discover, but which may be waiting to 
bear his brave young spirit home. 

There is a gray-haired man, who left his farm and 
fire-side when the traitorous gun at Sumter woke a world 
to arms. He has passed unscathed through forty bat- 
tles, to die an unrecorded hero here. 

His eyes are fixed, and his minutes are numbered. 
Children and grand-children are looking with anxious 
faces at all dispatches and letters from the Army of the 

46 



3p2 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

Potomac, but will not learn, for months, the fate of one 
who was only a private. 

"Is this man here?" carefally inquires a soldier, 
looking in at the door and reading the address of a let- 
ter. The answer is in the affirmative, and the ward-mas- 
ter calls out, "Mr. , here's a Northern letter for 

you." 

There is no eagerness to hear. The person addressed 
does not even turn his head. 

Strange, for he has waited many weary weeks to see 
the characters of that well-known hand ; has dreamed 
night after night, amid the pauses of his pain, of reading 
the sweet assurances of his dear wife' s love. 

These are the words : "Dearest Husband : I have not 
heard from you for months. I cannot believe any harm 
has befallen you ; for I have faith that heaven will re- 
store you to me at once. I feel sure my deep and ear- 
nest prayers have been answered ; that my affection wUl 
be as a shield to you, and my fond bosom again be 
your pillow." 

Blessed words ! what would he give if he could be 
hold them. Alas ! they have come too late. Her love 
has been lost in a greater love, and the life that is in a 
life to come. 

Through all the day and night corpses are carried from 
the hospitals to the dead-house, where the bodies are 
piled up like logs of wood, untU the rude cart into which 
they are thrown is driven off with its ghastly freight. 

At any hour one may see men bearing across the in- 
closure the pallid and wasted figure of a soldier, whom 
the Rebels had starved or frozen to death with malice 
prepense. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOKENCE. 363 

There goes into the dead-house a young man who, 
four years ago, was the idol of his circle. 

Possessed of beauty, genius, fortune, friends — all that 
could make Earth sweet — he quitted the attractions of a 
life of ease, and a luxurious home, and took up his 
musket that his country might be truly free. 

x>rot even she who loved him better than a sister, more 
intensely than a mother, would recognize him among the 
heaped-up dead. 

The unclosed eye and gaping jaw make that once 
handsome face hideous to view ; and suffering, and 
neglect, and cruelty, have changed it into a vision of 
repulsiveness and horror. 

But why seek to paint these scenes which defy des- 
cription ? Everywhere is pain, squalor, and horror. 

All day long, one sees wretched, haggard, sick, and 
dying men in every part of the inclosure. Their faces 
tell their story — an unwritten epic in the saddest num- 
bers. Their wasted forjns reveal the inhumanity and 
barbarity of a savage foe. Amid all that assemblage of 
thousands of men, though the sun shines, and the birds 
sing in the groves near by, not a laugh nor a jest is heard 
— not the faintest sound of merry-making. 

Not a single face relaxes into a smile ; every eye is 
dull with despondency ; every cheek sunken with want ; 
every lip trembling with unuttered pain. 

Disease and Death hold high carnival, and the mirror 
of misery is held up to every vacant stare. 

The air is heavy with plaints, and prayers, and groans, 
and over that accursed camp hangs the pall of despak. 
Guercino could paint no darker picture. Indeed, no 
limner, no artist in words or colors, could give a just 
^dea of the scenes of this terrestrial Tophet. 



364 ' oUTTTHEKN PEisoisrs ; 

Suffering everywhere, and no power to relieve it. In 
every tent and hole in the ground, wherever you tread 
or turn, gaunt and ghastly men, perishing by inches, 
glare on you like accusing spectres, until you find your- 
sell' forced to exclaim, "Thank God, I am not responsible 
for this!" 

Little, if anything, could be done for them medically. 
Hunger and exposure could not be remedied by the 
materia medica ; and to seek to heal them by ordinary 
means was like endeavoring to animate the grave. 

What advantage had quinine and opium when they 
could get neither bread nor raiment ? The sending of 
physicians into the prison limits was a ghastly farce, for 
the Rebel officers premeditatedly starved and froze our 
brave men, hoping to compel the Grovernment to ex- 
change, or to force the soldiers into the Southern service. 

Hundreds of the privates, anxious to save their lives, 
joined the enemy, trusting to the future ito escape. I 
can not blame them. Who could demand that they 
should await certain destruction in the form of disease, 
and cold, and hunger, when relief was offered them even 
by a cruel and barbarous foe ? No, I cannot censure 
those who forgot in such fearful hours all but their own 
salvation ; yet I can find no language too strong to praise 
the heroes that stood firm when they seemed deserted by 
their friends, their country, and their God. 

The Rebels, apparently not content with the ravages 
of disease, almost entirely superinduced by starvation 
and cold, fired upon the wretched prisoners whenever 
the humor seized them ; killing and wounding them 
without reason or pretext. The guards seemed influ- 
enced by a diabolical spirit, shooting men in their tents, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 363 

and in holes in the ground, seemingly in the merest 
wantonness. 

No one was safe. Whenever a sentinel felt in the 
mood, he would murder a "Yankee" without being 
removed from his post, or even asked why he did it_ 
Again and again, I myself saw soldiers fired upon hj 
the guard, and that too when they were transgressing 
no rule, and violating no order whatever. 

My readers may well ask, what motive had the enemy 
for such nefarious crimes ? I can only answer, that I 
have often put that question to myself ; that I am utterly 
at a loss to conceive his motive ; that he seemed actuated 
only by a fiendish malignity, to maim and murder as 
many Yankees as possible. 

On the 25th of November last, a few of the prisoners, 
perhaps a hundred or two, feeling that their condition 
was entirely desperate ; that they were being delibe- 
rately murdered by starvation and exposure, determined 
to attempt an outbreak ; knowing they could, at the 
worst, only be killed, and that death was almost certain 
if they remained in prison. Such arrangements as were 
practicable they speedily made, without giving any 
intimation to the other captives ; and, about one o' clock 
in the afternoon, fell upon the relief-guard, some twenty 
in number, when they entered the enclosure, and seized 
their muskets. 

Some of the guard resisted, and a fight occurred, in 
which two of the Rebels were killed and five or six 
wounded, with about the same loss on the part of the 
insurgents. 

The alarm was immediately given. The whole garri- 
son mounted the parapet ; and though, in a minute, the 
emeute was suppressed, the effort to get out of the gate 



866 SOIJTHEBN PEISON^S ; 

having failed, they began firing indiscriminately upon 
the prisoners, albeit it was evident to the dullest obser- 
ver that the great majority had nothing whatever to do 
with what was called the insurrection. 

The prisoners, seeing they were to be shot down in 
cold blood, took refuge in the tents, behind the outbuild- 
ings and hospitals, and in the caves they had dug. But 
that made no difference. The Rebels discharged two of 
the field-pieces bearing on the camp, and continued 
firing into the tents upon the poor captives who were 
trying to screen themselves from the murderous balls. 
For fully half an hour the shooting went on, and, in 
that time, some seventy men were killed and wounded, 
not one of whom, I venture to say, had any intimation 
of the outbreak before it was undertaken, and who were 
as guiltless of any attempt at insurrection as infants 
unborn. 

That was a fair example of the animus of the foe. 
He found a pretext for wholesale slaughter, and availed 
himself of it to the uttermost. 

Woe to those who are responsible for all that hideous 
suffering ; to the inhuman Rebels who plundered our 
poor soldiers of their clothing, and turned them into 
that filthy pen to die ; who had store-houses full of 
provisions, and yet starved their unfortunate captives 
with a fiendish persistency which one must be a beKever 
in total depravity to understand ! 

The truth is, the minds of the Southern people have 
for many years been so abused by their leaders and 
newspapers ; their source of information respecting the 
North has been so poisoned; the feelings, opinions, 
habits, and intentions of the Free States have been so 
grossly misrepresented, that it is not singular the loyal 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIXE OF FLORENCE. 367 

citizens of the Republic should be regarded by those 
dupes as thieves and assassins, barbarians and monsters. 

The Southern people, as a class, have had no means 
of judging of the Northerners, for they rarely traveled, 
or met socially those who had traveled ; and the conse- 
quence was, they believed whatever absurd and infamous 
statements thev heard from their demagogues, or read 
in their newspapers. 

For at least ten years — twenty-five would be nearer 
the truth — the South has been carefully and constantly 
stimulated and goaded into the bitterest hatred of, and 
direct enmity to, the North. The Southern leaders had 
long prepared for the overthrow of the Government, and 
believing the time ripe when Mr. Lincoln was elected, 
undertook the aggressive form of treason. 

Secession became a mania. It drove the embracers 
of the doctrine mad. All their worst passions were 
enkindled by it, and they swept through four years of 
agony and war to break themselves in pieces at the feet 
of the magnanimous and triumphant Nation. 

Now that I have escaped from that Hades of Salisbury, 
I marvel that I ever endured to breathe that pestilential 
air ; how I continued, week after week, and month after 
month, to keep my hold upon that dark point of the 
Planet. 

Truly, it seems like a nightmare dream ; and I can 
hardly realize I ever lived, and walked, and labored, in 
that place of shuddering horrors. 

While I sit writing in an easy-chair, glancing out of 
the window at the gay throng of the ever- changing 
Broadway, hear the peals of Trinity and the vast roar of 
the Metropolis, I wonder if I have not been drowsing, 



3C8 BOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

after reading Poe, and following his ghastly fancies into 
the mystic sphere of sleep. 

It is not real, I think. With all this bustle, and 
energy, and beauty, and plenty, and enlightenment, and 
Christianity about me, it cannot be that a thousand 
miles away hundreds of heroes, who had borne our flag 
on dozens of immortal fields, died every week from the 
premeditated cruelty of the Kebels. 

Surely it cannot be, for the Government was aware 
of all the atrocities of Southern prisons ; it had heard 
the story over and over again from the lips of sufferers ; 
and, if it had been as represented, the Government 
would certainly have made some effort to relieve its 
stanch suj)porters and its brave defenders. 

Alas ! the story is too true ; it is written in thousands 
of unknown graves, whose occupants, when alive, cried 
to the Government for redress, and yet cried in vain ! 

As soon as Mr. Richardson and myself reached our 
lines, we determined to visit Washington even before 
returning to New York, to see what could be done for 
the poor prisoners we had left behind, and determine 
what obstacles there had been in the way of an exchange. 
We were entirely free. We owed nothing to the Rebels 
nor to the Government for our release. We had obtained 
our own liberty, and were very glad of it ; for we believed 
our captives had been so unfairly, not to say inhumanly, 
treated at Washington, that we were unwilling to be 
indebted to authorities of that city for our emancipation. 

We went to Washington — deferring everything else 
to move in the matter ot prisoners — and did what we 
thought most effective for the end we had in view. Du- 
ring our sojourn there, we made it our special business 
to enquire into the causes of the detention of Union pris- 



OE, J08IE, THE HEBOINE OP FLOEENOE. 369 

oners in the Sonth, although it was known they were 
being deliberately starved and frozen by the Rebels. 
We particularly endeavored to learn who were responsi- 
ble for the murder — for it was nothing else — of thousands 
of our brave soldiers ; and we did learn. There was but 
one answer to all our questions ; and that was, Edwin 
M. Stanton, Secretary of War. 

Although he knew the exact condition of affairs in 
the Rebel prisons, he always insisted that we could not 
afford to exchange captives with the South ; that it was 
not policy. Perhaps it was not ; but it was humanity, 
and possibly that is almost as good as policy in other 
eyes than Mr. Stanton' s. 

After our departure from Washington, such a storm 
was raised about the Secretary's ears — such a tremen- 
dous outside feeling was created — that he was compelled 
to make an exchange. Our prisoners might just as well 
have been released a year before they were, and if they 
had been, thousands of lives would have been saved to 
the Republic, not to speak of those near and dear ones 
who were materially and spiritually dependent upon 
them. 

Dreadful responsibility for some one ; and that some 
one, so far as I can learn, is the Secretary of War. I 
hope I may be in error, but I cannot believe 1 am. If I 
am right, Heaven forgive him ! for the people will not. 
The ghosts of the thousand needlessly sacrificed heroes 
will haunt him to his grave." 

It will thus be seen that the same horrors which I have 
depicted, as coming within my own observation, occurred 
wherever else the Union privates were confined, and it 
will be believed that my plain, unvarnished tale, has 
not been exaggerated or too highly colored. 

47 



370 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; 

One of the most celebrated rebel prison pens was at 
Macon, Ga., especially during the latter part of the war, 
when the insecurity of the other prisons near the sea or 
navigable rivers had compelled the Rebels to remove 
their captives into the interior. At Macon, Col. F. W. 
Swift, of my own regiment, and several other officers of 
the Seventeenth were confined, at a somewhat late time 
of the war, having been captured at the Wilderness. 

The prison pen at Macon was called "Camp Ogle 
thorpe," from the old Gov. Oglethorpe, of Georgia. It 
covered an area of a little more than two acres, was 
surrounded by a stockade fence about fifteen feet high, 
and on the summit were placed the usual platforms for 
the guards. A.t a distance of fifteen feet, within the 
stockade, was the dead line, running entirely around 
the interior. Here it consisted of an ordinary picket 
fence, about three and a half feet high, while in other 
prisons much less care was taken to point it out to the 
unfortunate captives within. 

The town is finely situated upon the Ocmulgee River, 
in the central part of the State, and has some 10,000 
inhabitants. Since the war it has rapidly gained in 
population and prosperity. The same deeds of cruelty 
and barbarity were, to a certain degree, enacted there 
towards the Union officers, as disgraced other prisons in 
the South. The food was insufficient in quantity and 
wretched in quality ; there was little protection against 
the inclemency of the weather ; during the last four 
months of the war the prison was crowded with a vast 
host of those who had been sent thither from other 
prisons, and the same sickness, misery and death 
prevailed. The prisoners resorted to many devices for 
escape, and sometimes succeeded ; but very rarely. 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 371 

Men were constantly murdered for approaching towards 
the dead line, even when from fifteen to thirty feet away. 
During the last year of the war, and nntil Sherman 
fairly commenced his famous march to the sea, the 
officers here were treated almost as bad as were the 
private soldiers. This, however, was unusual, and only 
continued for a few months during the latter part of the 
war. Macon, though, may well be set down as one of 
the worst prisons that our officers were confined in. 

At Savannah was another prison, called ' 'Camp David- 
son," which did not differ materially in its appearance 
and details from that at Macon. During the latter part 
of the war several thousand Union prisoners were 
usually confined there. As a rule, the treatment of the 
captives by the officers in command was kinder than that 
of the other prison commanders throughout the South. 
The men were provided with brick ovens to do their 
baking with, and received rations of flour and other 
nutritious food. During a great part of the time, too, 
the guards were Georgia soldiers who had seen actual 
service upon the field, and such men were always 
far more humane to those in their charge than were the 
"Home-Gruards," who were generally detailed to per- 
form this duty. The men, nevertheless, made several 
attempts to escape, sometimes by tunnelling, sometimes 
in other ways, but always in vain. When Sherman 
commenced his march from Atlanta, and it became 
evident that Savannah would become a place of danger, 
the prisoners were removed to other points, where they 
underwent far greater hardships than at Camp Davidson, 
and the latter was always remembered by its inmates as 
an oasis in the desert of prison life. 

Conspicuous upon the list of Rebel prisons stands 



372 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

the pen known at the South as " Camp Lawton," near 
Millin, Georgia. 

The following is the testimony of Sergeant W, Good- 
year, Seventh Regiment Conn. Vol., who was removed to 
that place from Andersonville, on the 1st of JNov., 1864 : 

"It was situated about eighty miles north of Savan- 
nah, in a country where pine forests abound. Indeed, 
these were a prominent feature in the external surround- 
ings of many of the Southern prisons. Trees would be 
felled, a clearing made, and here located the rude 
structure that was to be the cheerless home of thousands 
for long weary months. Could a voice be given to these 
silent groves, and they become witnesses of what they 
have seen and heard, what revelations would be made 
of things that can never be known now ! The medium 
of human language fails to convey all the meaning 
involved in prison life in the South. The number of 
deaths averaged from twenty -five to thirty -five per day. 
The prevailing diseases were such as are common to 
almost all prisoners — the scurvy, diarrhcea and rheuma- 
tism. It was no uncommon occurrence for the morning 
light to reveal the pallid faces of three or four prisoners 
who had lain down side by side, showing that death had 
claimed them all during the night. Such sights were 
heart-rending to the most unfeeling— the most stoical. 
The prisoner is condemned to these things, and there is 
no alternative but for him to gaze upon them, however 
sad and revolting they may be. He must steel himself 
against that which once would have sent sympathy 
through his whole being— a gushing tide. It could not 
be that the fountain of pity be stirred to its depths so 
often. Nature could not sustain the pressure ; therefore 
it seems that the whole is something like a martyr pro- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEBOIITE OF FLORENCE. 373 

cess, in which, the very juices of life are crushed out by 
an uncontrollable force. At the time of my arrival 
there, the list of prisoners numbered nine thousand 
The weather was very cold and stormy ; and as the 
majority of the men were very poorly clad, many of 
them being without shoes, blankets or coats, and also 
without shelter ; the suffering was great, and beyond 
all description. So medicine was issued to the men 
within the stockade, and but very few were taken out- 
side to the hospital ; consequently the mortality was 
fearful.' 



374 SOUTHEEN prisons; 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE TESTIMONY OF OTHER AUTHORS. 

Corroborative Evidence. — Junius Henri Browne's Description of Im- 
prisonment. — Testimony of Capt. W. W. Glazier. — Mrs. A. P, 
Hanaford and Lieut. Col. Cavada. — The Sanitary Commission's 
Report. — Experience of Ira E. Forbes. — Evidence of the Rebels 
Themselves. — Albert D. Richardson at Salisbury. — Report of the 
Committee of Inquiry. 

I pray, sir, deal with men in misery 
Like one that may himself be miserable ; 
Insult not too much upon my wretchedness ; 
The noble minds still will not, when they can. 

""eywoocPa Royal Eimg. 

That the account of the prison life at the South may 
be complete, I now propose to adduce a quantity of the 
most valuable testimony tending to demonstrate that 
my representations of the matter have not in the slightest 
degree been colored or exaggerated. In the following 
chapter, the testimony of authors and others who pos- 
sessed peculiar information upon this subject is followed 
up and substantially closed. 

JUNIUS HENRI BROWNE. 

Mr. Browne again says: "If a man who has been 
a prisoner in the hands of the enemy for a long 
while could only preserve the remembrance of his sur- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE, 375 

roundings, as a criterion for the future, his restoration 
to freedom would be a return to paradise. But the truth 
is, the man changes with his situation. He glides so 
easily and readily into his normal status, that the 
abnormal seems at once insupportable. Therefore, the 
Filth Avenue, the Central Park, the Academy of Music, 
Beauty, Banquets, Diamonds, have no special charm. 
They are the things of course, the every-day garniture 
of civilized existence. 

But the retrospect of not many weeks makes us 
shudder, and wonder at what now appears an impossible 
philosophy. Walked I ever amid those pestilential 
scenes unmoved ? Stood I ever, calm and steady -voiced, 
beside all those suffering forms? Bore I ever those 
heavy burdens, physical and spiritual, so long, without 
fainting or perishing on the weary way ? 

We know not what we can endure, is as true as truth, 
and is no oftener considered than by the poor wretch 
whom the fortunes of war have consigned to a Southern 
prison. He finds, after months have passed, that he is 
still alive and sane, in spite of starvation, freezing, 
tyranny, and isolation, and believes himself of iron 
mold. The scene changes, and liberty and kind fortune 
dawn upon him. Then he looks behind, as the traveler 
.who has passed the brink of a precipice in the darkness, 
**and shudders while he thinks how narrow has been his 
escape ; how horrible would have been his death. A 
few months since, I would have relished the coarsest 
food, and deemed it delightful to dwell in the meanest 
hut, Now— so soon does man grow pampered in places 
of purple— the choicest viands tempt me all in vain, and 
I toss with restlessness upon the softest couch." 
Mr, Browne, in relating his experience of cell-life in 



376 SOUTHERN prisons; 

Richmond, says : " How we paced the floor, to and fro ! 
How we wore smiles rather sardonic on our lips, and 
forced every day' s bitterness of feeling into our hearts ! 
How we grew skeptical of every one, even our nearest 
friends, and doubted if we had any ! How we scoffed 
at the "disinterested motives" of the great world, and 
vowed that such things as affection and sympathy did 
not exist outside of the poet's page. Shut out from 
every refining and humanizing influence, deprived of the 
sight of Beauty, of the sense of Fragrance, of the sound 
of Melody, we became cynical in spite of ourselves, and 
reached Schopenhauer's plane — hoping nothing, expect- 
ing nothing, caring for nothing. 

I am not much given to sentiment, but these dreary 
walls and hard floors, that rough fare and desolate cap 
tivity, suggested their opposite, and brought to mind 
soft couches and softer hands, sweet voices and cooling 
draughts, thoughts of the beautiful and memories of 
sympathy, that were a torment and a torture there. 
' Sick and in prison, and ye visited me not.' I found a 
meaning in those simple words I had not before discov- 
ered, and felt in my inmost soul how dreadful an 
accusation that would be against a heart that had ever 
assumed to love. No Union captive ever received a 
single garment or blanket from the Rebels ; he was 
thrown into the prison to shift for himself as best he 
might. If he froze, they cared not ; if he perished, they 
had only one less Yankee to feed. They were as indif- 
ferent to the sufferings of the prisoners as they would 
have been to those of the Feejee Islanders ; and they 
made no pretense of sympathy or commiseration. The 
Southern citizens were treated quite as badly as the Yan- 
kees — even worse, sometimes, I thought — especially if 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 377 

they were poor and friendless. Old men, with white 
hair and forms bent with years, were incarcerated there 
on charge of having given food to their sons, who had 
deserted from the army. Others were snatched from 
their homes on various accusations of disloyalty to the 
so-called Confederacy, and allowed to die there, untried 
and unknown. 

I have again and again seen Union captives come 
out of cells in Richmond, pallid and emaciated as con- 
sumptive corpses — mere ghosts of men — with mouldy 
clothes and mildewed hair, burning with fever, bent with 
rheumatism, wasted with dysentery, who had been de- 
tained in those dungeons with a fiendish malignity, until 
their wretched existence held by a single thread. At the 
Castle, too, I have often been surprised at the tenacity 
with which incarcerated \ictims clung to their frail tene- 
ments of clay, in the cells and dungeons that admitted 
hardly a ray of light ; too small for the inmates either 
to lie down or sit, or stand with ease. 

The air of those dens was pestiferous. They reeked 
with filth and vermin. They would have delighted the 
Doges in the days of Venetian crime and Venetian mys- 
tery. They would have closed forever the babbling lips 
of those who talk of our generous but erring brothers — 
our brave but wayward sisters of the South. Brave and 
generous people cannot be cruel, and cruelty was an 
unextinguishable element in the character of most of 
the prison authorities of Secessia. They were malevolent 
without pretext, and inhuman without passion — an an- 
omaly only to be explained by the enunciation of a truth 
I have long recognized, that ' Slavery is barbarous and 
makes barbarians.' 

Think of that death-life, month after month ! Think 



378 SOtr-TH^eRN PRISONS ; 

of men of delicate organization, accnstomed to ease and 
luxury, of fine taste, and a passionate love of the Beau- 
tiful, without a word of sympathy or a whisper of hope, 
wearing their days out amid such scenes ! Not a pleas- 
ant sound, nor a sweet odor, nor a visi m of fairness ever 
reached them. They were buried as comj)letely as if 
they lay beneath the ruins of Pompeii or Herculaneum. 
They breathed mechanically, but were shut out from all 
that renders existence endurable. Every sense was 
shocked perpetually, and yet the heart, by a strange 
inconsistenc}'^, kept up its throbs, and preserved the 
physical being of thousands of wretched captives, who, 
no doubt, often prayed to die. Few persons can have 
any idea of a long imprisonment in the South. They 
usually regard it merely as an absence of freedom—as 
a deprivation of the pleasures and excitements of ordi- 
nary life. They do not take into consideration the scant 
and miserable rations that no one, unless he be half 
famished, can eat ; the necessity of going cold and hun- 
gry in the wet and wintry season • the constant torture 
from vermin, of which no care nor precaution will free 
you ; the total isolation, the supreme dreariness, the 
dreadful monotony, the perpetual turning inward of the 
mind upon itself, the self-devouring of the heart, week 
after week, month after month, and year after year, truly 
it is wonderful that any escaped alive." 

CAPT. W. W. GLAZIER. 

The following statement is made by Willard W. Gla- 
zier, Brevet Captain New York Vol. Cavalry, in his book 
entitled "The Capture, Prison Pen, and Escape." In 
speaking of his confinement at Charleston, he says : 

"A small portion of the present inmates of the jail- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 379 

yard were removed here from Andersonville ; and I 
have listened wdth pain and perfect horror to the his- 
tory of their past treatment. Future generations will 
stand aghast in view of the unheard of and pitiless 
deeds of men, steeped in infamy — their foul and bar- 
barous usage of our unfortunate soldiers. At Ander- 
sonville large numbers were crowded into a small 
space, where the ground was literally alive with vermin. 
So filthy and obnoxious, so infested with vermin, and 
so loathsome had this den of living death become, that 
it was indeed impossible for a person of good health 
to endure it long. During the heat of day, by watch- 
ing closely in the warm sand, you could perceive a 
constant motion among the particles ; so alive was it 
it with lice. On such ground as this, the men were 
closely crowded together without shelter, and with 
fare, which a Rebel surgeon himself declared, would 
produce disease among swine." 

Again says Glazier, in liis " Preface." 

"The following pages are offered to inquiring minds, 
with the hope that they may throw some light upon the 
inhuman treatment we received in Southern prisons. 
They do not pretend to give a complete history of prison 
life in the South — only a part. Others are contributing 
sketches for the dark picture, which at the best, can but 
poorly illustrate the fearful atrocities of our brutal 
keepers. The multiplied woes of the battle-field, the 
sufferings of the sick and wounded in hospitals which 
the Federal Government has established, might almost 
be considered the enjoyments of paradise, when com- 
pared with the heart-rending and prolonged agonies of 
captives in Rebel stockades. Indeed, we are even led to 
conclude, by the usage which we have received at the 



380 SOTJTHERN PRISONS ; 

hands of our captors, that it was their deliberate inten- 
tion to maim, and thereby render us completely unfit 
for future service. They have seen us, with apparent 
satisfaction, become so much reduced in clothing as to 
have scarcely rags for a covering ; they have condemned 
us to hunger and thirst, pain and weariness, affliction 
and misery in every conceivable form, so that thousands 
of our unfortunate fellow beings have anxiously awaited 
the approach of the king of terrors, as the arrival of a 
welcome fiiend that had come to bring them a happy 
release." 

MRS. p. A. HANATORD. 

Mrs. P. A. Hanaford, a celebrated authoress, who has 
written a volume entitled, "-Field, Gunboat, Hospital 
and Prison," writes: "It is a matter of profoundest 
mystery to all, how our Southern brethren could ever 
be so cruel to their prisoners of war. But the testi- 
mony is too strong to be denied ; and from nameless 
"graves at the South, and graves at the North untimely 
filled, goes up to heaven the cry against the pitiless 
cruelty of Southern captors. The record of Rebel 
atrocities is dark and damning. There is no language 
but that of scripture to express the character of those 
who tortured their helpless prisoners unto death, fol- 
lowing them with merciless hatred, even unto the 
grave: they were truly earthly, sensual, devilish." 

LIEUTENANT COLONEL CAVADA. 

The following evidence of Confederate brutality is 
extracted from Lieut. Col. F. F. Cavada's "Libby Life : " 
"In the room under the one we occupj^, are confined a 
large number of Federal non-commissioned officers, and 
citizens captured in Marj^land and Pennsylvania during 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 381 

the late invasion by General Lee' s Army. They are even 
more poorly fed than ourselves. Through a chink in 
the floor we pass them down crackers, and pieces of 
bread, whenever we can spare them from our own slen 
der store. It is pitiful to see these starving men strug- 
gling with their thin, lank hands, at the hole, to catch 
the bits we drop through to them. We often see them 
fight desperately over a morsel of bread, even beating 
and knocking one another down. I never look through 
that chink, but I can see below some anxious, wasted 
face, and a pair of sunken eyes, peering up in wistful 
supplication for a crust ! The Confederate authorities 
assert that they are doing all they can for us ! If una- 
voidable, this system of starvation would be frightful 
enough : if intentional, it is too revoltingly cruel to ever 
meet with its full punishment upon earth," 

SANITARY COMMISSION'S REPORT. 

Tlie Sanitary Commission's report concerning the 
Bufferings and privations of United States officers and 
soldiers, and a volume entitled, ' ' Atrocities of the Re- 
bellion," by a Southern Unionist, who barely escaped 
with his life, contain proof enough to blacken the pages 
of Southern history, so that no partial historian can 
ever bleach or whitewash it. To use the language of 
the author of the latter volume : "It may be said that 
the atrocities recorded in this book are isolated and ex- 
treme cases, and do not present a fair view of the mat- 
ter. Would that this were true ! But so far is this 
from being true, that the picture is altogether too faint. 
The loyal heart beats sadly over the record of these in- 
famous deeds, and remembers with pain the horrible 
sufierings that our brave men passed through. Indeed, 



882 SOUTHERN prisons; 

the atrocities related are only specimens ; mere selec- 
tions from an immense mass of liedious deeds of bar- 
barism. Were tlie whole to be recorded, the mind 
would tire of, and recoil from the recital ; were the whole 
to be recorded, volumes would be required." 

IRA E. FORBES. 

Ira E. Forbes, of Connecticut, in his statement of 
what he saw and experienced while a prisoner in the 
hands of the Rebels during the spring, summer and 
autumn of 1864, as written for A. O. Abbott, author of 
the book entitled, "Prison Life in the South," says: 
" I have tried to give a truthful account of some of the 
cruelties and sufferings which our poor boys were called 
to endure in filthy, loathsome Southern prisons and hos- 
pitals. It seems to me there can be no reason for any 
one to make a false report of the miseries we suffered at 
the hands of our heartless captors, and brutal ]3rison 
keepers. To tell the truth of them is all that is needed 
to convince any reasonable man of their barbarities, and 
their fiendish attempt to deprive our soldiers, whom the 
fortunes of war had thrown into their power, of every 
comfort and enjoyment of life. 

None can fully realize the intense agony, the horrid 
suspense and wretchedness felt by these unfortunate men, 
but those who have had a like experience. Indeed, 
their sufferings were beyond all description. Brave 
men becajie gloomy and despondent. Light faded from 
the once brilliant, fiery eye ; the color disappeared from 
the manly countenance ; manhood seemed to forget itself 
— the entire man was speedily drifting towards a fearful 
ruin. Hope had nearly vanished. The mind was labor- 
ing under intense agony. To some the burden was too 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 383 

much, and they have never recovered from its baneful 
effects ; others have nearly recovered, but their scars 
will remain forever. Only a few could receive medical 
treatment, and that scarcely worth mentioning, while in 
every part of camp were as brave and loyal soldiers as 
any that had ever taken up arms in defense of freedom, 
suffering and dying in a manner that might have 
shocked even the rude sensibilities of an American 
savage." 

REBEL EVIDENCE. 

Col. B. Estvan, who served eighteen months as colonel 
of cavalry in the Confederate Armj^, gives the following 
account in relation to the treatment of Union prisoners 
during the early part of the war, in his work entitled, 
"War Pictures from the South." Notice the contrast 
as drawn by the Rebel author : 

" When the first prisoners taken from the enemy ar- 
rived after the battle of Bethel, a certain amount of pity 
prevailed amongst the authorities, but this, small as it 
was, soon disappeared after the murderous battle of 
Manassas, when they were brought in, in large numbers. 
The strictness with which they were guarded was 
nothing to the severity that now took place. The pris- 
oners were locked up by hundreds, without distinction 
of rank — officers and men huddled together in buildings 
formerly used as tobacco warehouses and factories, from 
three to four hundred in one room. Amongst others, 
the gallant Irishman, Colonel Corcoran. The foul air of 
the building was enough to poison the men ; but the 
authorities seemed to take pleasure in exercising bar- 
barous severity, and stuck to that principle. As, under 
a broiling sun, each of the buildings alluded to was the 



384 SOUTHERN PEISONS; 

compulsory residence day and night of four hundred 
men, it may easily be supposed that on entering it from 
the open air, the stench was overpowering. To get a 
breath of fresh air, the prisoners had to lean against 
the windows, where they were stared at, and often 
hooted by the crowd below. The feeling of humanity 
sank daily lower at Kichmond ; and brutality increased 
so much, that at last it even reached the better classes. 
Pity vanished altogether ; even women, who usually are 
so ready to give a helping hand to a suffering fellow 
creature, without inquiring who he is, became hard 
hearted. Colonel Corcoran put up with this undignified 
treatment and the insults of the mob with the greatest 
courage. He was ultimately sent to Columbia, in South 
Carolina, where he at least found human beings, and 
where he was allowed to breathe fresh air without being 
stared at by a crowd. 

How did the officers and soldiers of the United States 
treat their prisoners ? When, in February, the greater 
portion of Wise' s Legion were made prisoners on Roan- 
oke Island, General Burnside and his officers treated 
them with respect and attention. The officers of the 
Confederate army were allowed to go free on parole. 
Both officers and men of Burnside' s Army showed them 
many acts of civility, and gave them gold for their Con- 
federate paper money, of little value there. In a few 
days General Burnside liberated all the prisoners, on 
their giving their word of honor not to serve until an 
exchange had taken place. If either of the two Govern- 
ments had a right to treat the prisoners as enemies, 
surely it was the United States Government, as the 
Southerners were the originators of this disastrous war. 
We were the rebellious sons of a worthy mother. She 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIWE OF FLOEENCE. 385 

was not the cause of the war ; it was we who had ap- 
plied the torch, and set fire to our once qniet and peace- 
ful home. Our men, when taken prisoners, were usually 
treated, not like convicts, but as misguided children. 
But the Confederate Government, which had already 
despoiled the Union of so many things, now wished 
even to deprive its adherents of the ordinary rights ol 
humanity and respect. It is true, that many of our 
officers felt the injustice of the treatment inflicted upon 
the prisoners, but what could they do? Orders came 
from headquarters, and they were bound to obey them, 
for the first duty of a soldier is obedience." 

A. D. RICHARDSON. 

Mr. Richardson, in his work entitled, "The Field, 
the Dungeon and the Escape," says : 

"Early in October, the condition of the Salisbury 
Garrison suddenly changed. Nearly ten thousand pris- 
oners of war, half naked and without shelter, were 
crowded into its narrow limits, which could not reason- 
ably accommodate more than six hundred. It was con- 
verted into a scene of sufiering and death which no pen 
can adequately describe. For every hour, day and 
night, we were surrounded by horrors which burned 
into our memories like a hot iron. 

We had never before been in a prison containing our 
private soldiers. In spite of many assurances to the 
contrary, we had been skeptical as to the barbarities 
which they were said to sufier at Belle Isle and Ander- 
sonville. We could not believe that men bearing the 
American name would be guilty of such atrocities. 
Now, looking calmly upon our last two months in Sal- 
isbury, it seems hardly possible to exaggerate the incred- 

49 



386 SOUTHERN prisons; 

ible cruelties of the Rebel authorities. When captured, 
the prisoners were robbed of the greater part of their 
clothing. When they reached Salisbury, all were thinly 
clad, thousands were barefooted, not one in twenty had 
an overcoat or blanket, and many hundreds were with- 
out coats or blouses. About one-half of the prisoners 
were furnished with shelter. The rest burrowed in the 
earth, crept under buildings, or dragged out the nights 
in the open air, upon muddy, snowy, or frozen ground. 
In October, November and December, snow fell several 
times. It was piteous to see the poor fellows, coatless, 
hatless and shoeless, shivering about the yard. Sick- 
ness was very prevalent and very fatal. It invariably 
appeared in the form of pneumonia, catarrh, diarrhoea, 
or dysentery, but was directly traceable to freezing and 
starvation. Therefore the medicines were of little avail. 
The weakened men were powerless to resist disease, and 
they were carried to the dead-house in appalling num- 
bers. 

The list of the dead, as taken from my own record, 
is astonishing. It comprises over fourteen hundred 
prisoners deceased within sixty days, and shows that 
the prisoners died at the rate of thirteen per cent, a month 
on the entire number — a rate of mortality which would 
depopulate any city in the world in forty-eight hours, 
and send the people flying in all directions, as from a 
pestilence. Yet, when those prisoners came there they 
were young and vigorous, like our soldiers generally in 
the field. There was not a sick or wounded man among 
them. It was a fearful revelation of the work which 
cold and starvation had done. 

On wet days the mud was very deep in camp, and 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 387 

the shoeless wretches wallowed pitifully through it, 
seeking vainly for cover and warmth. 

Two hundred negro prisoners were almost naked, and 
could find no shelter whatever, except by burrowing 
in the earth. The authorities treated them with unusual 
rigor, and guards murdered them with impunity. No 
song, no athletic game, few sounds of laughter broke 
the silence of the garrison. It was a Hall of Eblis — 
devoid of its gold — besprinkled pavements, crystal 
vases, livid lips, sunken eyes, and ghastly figures, at 
whose hearts the consuming fire was never quenched. 
Indeed, the wasted forms and sad, pleading eyes of 
those sufferers, waiting wearily for the tide of life to 
ebb away — without the commonest comforts, without 
one word of sympathy, or one tear of aflfection — will 
never cease to haunt me. 

The last scene of all was, the dead-cart, with its 
rigid forms piled upon each other like logs — the arms 
swaying, the white, ghastly faces staring, with dropped 
jaws and stony eyes— while it rattled along, bearing its 
precious freight just outside the walls, to be thrown in 
a mass into trenches and covered with a little earth." 

COMMITTEE OF INQUIRY. 

This piece of evidence is taken from the report of a 
committee of inquiry, appointed by the U. S. Sanitary 
Commission, in 1864, to investigate the subject of the 
treatment of Union prisoners by the Rebel authorities, 
and the following summary expresses substantially the 
views of the commission, whose names, it will be seen, 
are appended : 

" There is only one conclusion that every one must 
come to who carefully weighs the testimony. Every 



388 SOUTHEEIir PKISOIfS ; 

doubt and misgiving successively disappears. No 
other theory will cover the immensity and variety of 
that system of abuse to which our soldiers were sub- 
jected. That abuse was, in all its forms, too general, 
too uniform, and too simultaneous to be otherwise than 
the result of a great arrangement. One prison-station 
was like another — one hospital resembled another 
hospital. This has been made especially apparent by 
intelligence that has reached the public since the close 
of the war. 

It is the same story everywhere — prisoners of war- 
treated worse than convicts, shut up either in suffocat- 
ing buildings, or in outdoor enclosures, without even 
the shelter that is provided for the beasts of the field ; 
uns applied with sufficient food ; supplied with food and 
water injurious and even poisonous ; compelled to live 
in such personal uncleanliness as to generate vermin ; 
compelled to sleep on floors often covered with human 
filth, or on ground saturated with it ; compelled to 
breathe an air oppressed with an intolerable stench ; 
hemmed in by a fatal dead-line, and in hourly danger 
of being shot by unrestrained and brutal guards ; des- 
pondent even to madness, idiocy and suicide ; sick of 
diseases (so congruous in character as to appear and 
spread like the plague), caused by the torrid sun, by 
decaying food, by filth, by vermin, by malaria, and by 
cold ; removed at the last moment, and by hundreds at 
a time, to hospitals corrupt as a sepulchre, there, with 
few remedies, little care and no spmpathy, to die in 
wretchedness and despair, not only among strangers, 
but among enemies too resentful to have pity or to show 
mercy. 

These are positive facts. Tens of thousands of help- 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF ELOEE]S"CE. 389 

less men have been disabled and destroyed by a process 
as certain as poison, and as cruel as the torture or burn- 
ing at the stake, because nearly as agonizing and more 
prolonged. This spectacle was daily beheld and allowed 
by the Rebel Government. 

The conclusion is unavoidable, therefore, that "these 
privations and sufferings" have been "designedly 
inflicted by the military and other authority of the Rebel 
Government," and could not have been " due to causes 
which such authorities could not control." 

It is a painful duty for me to narrate facts so 
unworthy of any people, especially of one heretofore 
so highly respected, so much admired, and in so many 
respects a credit to the American name. 

That name is shamed and dishonored by their 
exposure. 

Yet, in the face of all this, the Confederate Congress, 
with the approval of the Confederate President, issued, 
on the 14th of June, 1864, a manifesto, of which the fol- 
lowing is the concluding declaration : 

" We commit our cause to the enlightened Judgment 
of the worlds to the sober refections of our adversaries 
themselves, and to the solemn and righteous arMtra- 
ment of heaven.''^ 

Can this appeal to both Divine and human judgment, 
be really sincere, or is it only a rounded and rhetorical 
termination of a state paper ? is the Rebel Government 
really so unconscious of that barbarous warfare, that it 
confidently expects the respect and sympathy of the 
civilized world ? Was it really so unconscious of vin- 
dictive cruelty, that it confidently expected a revulsion 
in its favor from a community whose fathers and bro- 
thers and sons lie piled by thousands in pits and 



390 SOUTHERN PRISONS ' 

trenches, not on the battle-field, but in the neighborhood 
of prisons and hospitals ? Is it really so unconscious 
of crime that it claims even the favorable judgment of 
Him, unto whom all hearts are open, from whom no 
secrets are hid, and who requires of man to deal justly 
and to love mercy 1 Is it really anxious to stand before 
that bar, whose final discrimination between good and 
evil, it has been revealed, shall rest upon the single fact 
of humanity or inhumanity : whether the passions of 
anger and hate have been controlled, whether enemies 
have been forgiven, whether privation and suffering 
have been relieved ? In view of the powerless captive, 
hungry, naked, sick and wounded, does it really await 
"the solemn and righteous arbitrament " of Him, to-day, 
who will, hereafter, say to the cruel and unmerciful : 

" I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat : I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink : I was a stranger, and 
ye took me not in : naked, and ye clothed me not : sick 
and in prison, and ye visited me not?" 

Let the Southern conscience listen ! Let it remember 
that the judgment of heaven is on the side of humanity, 
and against cruelty and oppression, that a wrong done 
to man is a wrong done to God, who will make the cause 
of the suffering His own, and wiU avenge Himself on His 
enemies. 

" Verily, verily, I say unto you. Inasmuch as ye did 
it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me !" 

V. MOTT, 

EDWARD DEL A FIELD, 
GOUV. MOR. WILKINS, 
ELLERSLIE WALLACE, 
J. L CLARK HARE, 
TREADWELL WALDEN 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF ELOKENCE. 391 



CHAPTER XXX. 

- THE REBEL PLOT. 

The Argument of Benson J. Lossing. — The Views of Senator Howard 
of Michigan. 

I know thy loyal heart and prudent head ; 
Upon whose hairs time's child, experience, hang, 
A milk-white badge of wisdom ; and canst wield 
Thy tongue in senate and thy hands in field. 

Tru6 Trojans. 

Upon this subject of the dire plot of the Rebels to 
torture and destroy their Union prisoners, the argument 
of the historian, Benson J. Lossing, is so conclusive and 
unanswerable, that we present the substance of his 
views ; also, the opinion of Senator Howard, of Michi- 
gan, as quoted by Mr. Lossing : 

" In the downfall of the Confederacy, the ,'prisoners 
were all set free, and the captive insurgents, who had 
been generously treated, comfortably housed, and 
abundantly fed, at all times and in all places, while in 
the custody of the national authorities, were sent to 
their homes at the expense of their ever kind Govern- 
ment. Gladly would the writer testify to like generous 
treatment, comfortable shelter, and wholesome and 
abundant food, accorded to the Union prisoners by the 
Confederate authorities. Alas ! the truth revealed by 
ten thousand sufferers, and the admissions of the Con- 



392 80TJTHEEN PRISOTfS ; 

federates themselves, compel a widely different record — 
a record which presents one of the darkest chapters in 
the history of human iniquity. Gladly would he omit 
the record, for it relates to the wickedness of some of 
his countrymen, but duty and honor require him, in 
making a chronicle of the Rebellion and civil war, to tell 
the whole truth, and conceal nothing, so that posterity 
may be able to form a correct judgment of that Rebellion 
and civil war. Unimpeached and unimpeachable testi- 
mony shows, that in refusing to acknowledge the caj)tive 
negro soldiers, and the officers who led them, to be pro- 
per subjects for exchange, and other acts which they 
well knew that, though the high sense of honor and 
justice which always guided the Government, would 
lead to a cessation of exchange, was only a part of a 
plan of the conspirators, deliberately formed, for mur- 
dering or permanently disabling by the slow process of 
physical exhaustion, the Union captives in their hands. 
This is a grave charge, and should not be made against 
any man or body of men, without a firm conviction of 
its truth, and the most conclusive proof. With such 
conviction, and satisfied that such proof is not only con- 
clusive, but abundant, the charge is here made, and put 
on record, that the world may know somewhat of the 
character of the men who conceived, planned, and car- 
ried on a Rebellion against a beneficient Government, 
without any other excuse than that of the sorely- tempted 
sinner — the overpowering influence of that depravity 
which the slave system generated by allowing an 
unbridled exercise of the baser passions of human 
nature — a depravity which culminated after a career of 
two hundred years, or more, in what Blackstone, declares 
to be the sum of all wickedness denounced in the Deca- 



OE, JOSIE THE HEEOrN^E OF FLOEENCE. 393 

togne, namely: Treason. Proofs from ten thousand 
tongues certify and justify the conclusions of a National 
Senator (Howard), who, while holding in his hand the 
report of a committee appointed by the United States 
Sanitary Commission, in May, 1864, said, after speaking 
of the barbarities at Andersonville : 

" The testimony is as clear as the noonday sun, that 
these barbarities were deliberately practiced upon our 
men for the double purpose of torture and death by 
starvation, and to freezing and starving united, operating 
minute by minute, hour by hoar, day by day, week by 
week, and month by month, until the man became a 
living skeleton and idiot, no longer of any value either 
to himself or to his country ; and this for the purpose 
of weakening our military arm, and deterring our people 
from prosecuting the war." 

For obvious reasons, the revolting details of the 
cruelties practiced upon the Union prisoners at Rich- 
mond, Andersonville, Danville, Salisbury, Florence, 
Millen, Charleston, and other places, and the result of 
those cruelties, are not put upon record here. General 
statements are considered quite sufficient for the purpose 
already avowed ; and the reader may consult, for a 
knowledge of those details, the report of the Sanitary 
Commission ; the statements of scores of victims ; the 
testimony elicited by the committee on the conduct of the 
war ; and the testimony on the trial of Captain Wirz, 
From the beginning of the war, the charge and dis- 
position of the Union prisoners were committed to John 
H. Winder, formerly of the National army, whose 
acquaintance we have already made. He appears to 
have been, according to the testimony of friend and foe, 
an exceedingly bad man ; cruel in his nature ; repulsive 

50 



394 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

in features ; rude in manners, and foul and profane in 
speech. While a cadet at West Point, he engaged in 
a conspiracy, and was saved from punishment by an 
adroit construction of law, by John C. Calhoun, then 
Secretary of War. He was an inciter of the mob at 
Baltimore, who attempted to prevent Massachusetts 
troops passing through that city to Washington, in 
April, 1861. Then he went to Richmond, and was 
appointed a Brigadier-general in the insurgent army, but 
never had command in the field. The arch-conspirator, 
Davis, who knew his character well, made him Chief 
Commissary of Prisoners, and kept him in that office 
until his death in Georgia, February 8, 1865, in spite of 
the remonstrances of officials above and below him, and 
the frequent exposure of the infamy of his deeds. "He 
was supplied with rank," says Mr, Spencer, "without 
a command, from his peculiar fitness for the work to be 
required of him." It is well known that he did not dis- 
appoint his master in the execution of the duties 
assigned to him ; and it is doubtful if, within the limits 
of the so-called Confederacy, another man could be 
found so well fitted for the perfonnance of the mission 
to wliich he was destined. Winder's chief executive 
officer in the exercise of cruelty toward the captives in 
Richmond, and especially in Libby Prison, was Major 
Turner ; and Captain Henry Wirtz, who was hanged for 
his crimes, at the national capital, was his most trusted 
and efficient lieutenant at Andersonville. His coadjutor 
in the work of destroying prisoners seems to have been 
" Commissary- General " L. B. Northrup, that special 
favorite of Jefferson Davis, and whom one of the Con- 
federate Congressmen (Henry S, Foote), published as a 
"monster of iniquity." The writer was told by an 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 395 

officer of the Confederate Commissary Department, wlio 
knew Northrup well, long before the war, that he 
invented a method, after many experiments, that would 
surely effect the utter prostration of prisoners, while 
there should not seem to be actual starvation. It was 
the giving to each prisoner, for a day' s sustenance, six 
ounces of flour, two ounces of bacon, one gill of molas- 
ses, and a pint of cow-peas : a composition calculated 
to disorder the bowels, and produce marasmus and 
death; "Print this," said the indignant officer, when 
he gave the writer an account of it, and give my name 
as authority, if you like." Such were the instruments 
employed by Jefferson Davis, in the case of Union 
prisoners. Jones, in his Rebel War Clerk's Diary, fre- 
quently shows his detestation of Winder ; and even the 
Richmond Examiner exclaimed, when, at the age of 
seventy years, Davis's commissary of prisoners went to 
Andersonville, because there was a wider field for his 
awful vocation, "thank God that Richmond is at last 
rid of old Winder : God have mercy upon those to 
whom he has been sent. ' ' Everywhere the Union prisoners 
were closely crowded in ill- ventilated and unwholesome 
places. Libby Prison contained six rooms, each one 
hundred feet in length and forty in breadth. At one 
time, these held twelve hundred Union officers of every 
grade, from a lieutenant to a brigadier-general. They 
were allowed no other place in which to cook, eat, wash 
and dry their clothes and their persons, sleep, and take 
exercise. Ten feet by two was all that might be claimed 
for each man. They were usually despoiled of theii- 
money, watches, and sometimes portions of their cloth- 
ing, before entering, with promises, rarely fulfilled, of a 

At one time, they 



896 SOTTTHEEN PEISOITS ; 

were not allowed a seat of any kind to sit npon. The 
floors of rough boards were always washed in the after- 
noon, so that at night they were damp. On these, some 
without any thing under them, the prisoners were com- 
pelled to sleep, and many thereby took cold, which 
ended in consumption and death. The windows were 
numerous, and most of the glasses were broken, in con- 
sequence of which they suffered intensely from cold. 
The captives were subjected to the caprices of Turner, 
who, among other cruelties, ordered that no one should 
go within three feet of the windows, a rule that seems 
to have been adopted in other prisons in the SoMth. A 
violation of the rule gave license to the guard to shoot 
the offending prisoner. It was enforced with the great- 
est cruelty. Sometimes, by accident, or unconsciously 
in his sufferings, an officer would go by a window, and 
be instantly shot at, without warning. The brutal 
guards took pleasure in the sport of "shooting Yan- 
kees,"' and eagerly watched for opportunities to indulge 
in it. " But there were cruelties worse than these," said 
the report of the committee, "because less the result of 
impulse and recklessness, and because deliberately 
done." It was the starvation of the prisoners, by a 
systematic diminution in the quantity, and deterioration 
of the quality of their daily allowance with which they 
were supplied, the character of which may be under- 
stood by the remark of a young officer: "I would 
gladly have preferred the horse-feed in my father's 
stable." The process of the slow starvation of the 
captives began in the autumn of 1863, and was so gen- 
eral and uniform in the prisons and prisoner-pens, that 
there can be no doubt of its having been done by direct 
orders from the conspirators of Richmond. " The com 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 397 

bread," says the report, "began to be of the roughest 
description ; portions of the cob and husk were often 
found ground in with the meal. The crust was so 
thick and hard, that the prisoners called it iron-clad. 
To render the bread eatable, they grated it, and made 
mush of it ; but the crust they could not grate. Now 
and then, after long intervals, often of many weeks, a 
little meat was given them, perhaps two or three mouth- 
fuls. At a later period, they received a pint of black 
peas, with some vinegar, every week. The peas were 
often full of worms, or maggots, in a chrysalis state, 
which, when they made soup, floated on the surface." 
And this was done ^\'hen there was abundance of food 
at the command of their jailors. For a while, the 
prisoners were allowed to receive boxes of food and 
clothing, sent by their friends in the North, and by the 
Sanitary Commission, but it was found that this privi- 
lege would defeat the starvation scheme of the conspira- 
tors, and in January, 1864, it was denied, without any 
reason being given. "Three hundred boxes," says the 
report, "arrived every week, and were received by Colo- 
nel Ould Commissioner of Exchange ; but instead of 
being distributed, were retained, and piled up in a 
warehouse near hy.'' The contents of many of these 
boxes were used by the Confederates. " The officers," 
says the report, "were permitted to send out and buy 
articles at extravagant prices, and would find the clothes, 
stationery, hams, and butter, which they had purchased, 
bearing the marks of the Sanitary Commission^ ' Over 
three thousand boxes, sent to captives in Libby Prison, 
and on Belle Isle, in the James River, near, were stored 
close by the former building, where the writer saw a 
large portion of them, immediately after the evacuation 



398 souTHEBN prisons; 

of Richmond. In the few indications here given of the 
condition of the Union captives in Libby Prison, we 
have a glimpse, only, of the horrors of the "starving 
time," in the history of such captives, in all parts of 
the country nnder the rule of the conspirators. The 
finishing touch in the ghastly picture of the iniquity of 
those conspii'ators is given in the fact that they pre- 
pared to blow up Libby Prison, with its starving 
inmates, with gunpowder, rather than to allow them to 
regain their liberty. To the testimony concerning that 
premeditated act, may be added that Turner, the com- 
mandant of the prison, who said, in answer to the ques- 
tion of a captive officer, "Was the prison mined?" 
" Yes, and I would have blown you all to Hades before 
I would have suffered you to be rescued." A remark 
of Bishop Johns was corroborative as well as curious, 
in reply to the question, "Whether it was a Christian 
mode of warfare to blow up defenceless prisoners ?" 
The Bishop replied, "I suppose the authorities are 
satisfied on that point, though 1 do not mean to justify 
it." The sufferings of the captives on Belle Isle, dur- 
ing the " starving time," were much greater than of 
those in Libby Prison, for the latter were under shelter. 
Belle Isle was a small island of a few acres, in the 
James River, in front of Richmond, near the Tredegar 
Iron Works. A part of it was a grassy bluff, covered 
with trees, and a part was a low, sandy barren, a few 
feet above the surface of the river, which there flows 
swiftly. There was a bridge across the James, over 
which the captives passed on their way to Belle Isle, 
which became truly a "Bridge of Sighs." Over the 
Richmond entrance to it might have been appropriately 
placed, the inscription which Dante saw over the gate 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 399 

of Hell: "He who enters here leaves hope behind." 
For the captives, the cool, green grass that carpeted the 
hill on Belle Isle, and the shade of the trees that 
adorned it, had no blessings, for the prisoners were con- 
fined to the low and treeless sand-barren, and were 
never allowed, in the hottest weather, to leave it and go 
to the cooler spot, a. few rods off, that appeared so much 
like heaven, in comparison with the hell in which they 
were compelled to suffer. That barren spot, not to 
exceed five acres in extent, was surrounded by earth- 
works about three feet in height, with a ditch on both 
sides. Along the outer ditch, guards were stationed 
about forty feet apart, and kept watch night and day. 
The prisoners were without shelter. At first there were 
a few ragged sibley tents, but these soon disappeared. 
Notwithstanding this, an established station for prison- 
ers was in a country of forests, the lumber plentiful, 
not a movement was made, from the beginning, to erect 
barracks, or to make any humane provision for the com- 
fort of those confined there. Quickly would the hun- 
dreds of mechanics sent there have constructed 
comfortable shelter for all, from the scorching sun and 
biting frost, but they were not allowed to have the raw 
material for the purpose. At one time there were no 
less than eleven thousand captives on that bleak space 
of five acres — " so crowded, according to the estimated 
area given then," says the report, "there could not 
have been but the space of two feet by seven given 
them, and, at the most, three feet by nine, per man. 
Stripped of blankets and overcoats, hatless often, shoe- 
less often, in ragged coats and rotting shirts, they were 
obliged to take the weather as it came. The winter 
came — and one of the hardest winters ever experienced 



400 SOUTHEEN PRISON'S ; 

in the Sonth — but still no shelter was provided. The 
mercury was down to zero, at Memphis, which is further 
south than Richmond. The snow lay deep on the 
ground around Richmond. The ice formed on the 
James, and flowed in masses upon the rapids, on either 
side of the island. Water, left in buckets on the island, 
froze two or three inches deep in a single night. The 
men resorted to every expedient to keep from perishing. 
They lay in the ditch, as the most protected place, 
heaped upon one another, and lying close together, as 
one of them expressed it, ' Like hogs in winter,' taking 
turns as to who should have the outside of the row. In 
the morning, the row of the previous night was marked 
by the motionless forms of those who were sleeping on in 
their last sleep — frozen to death !" 

And while thus exposed to the frost, the prisoners 
were starving, and the only defender of exposed men 
from the severity of the cold, namely ; wholesome and 
abundant food, was denied them. 'The cold froze 
them," says the report, ''because they were hungry, — 
the hunger consumed them because they were cold. 
These two vultures fed upon their vitals, and no one in 
the Southern Confederacy had the mercy or the pity to 
drive them away." And while hundreds of our women 
were administering comforts to the sick r.nd wounded 
insurgents in Northern prisons and hospitals, not one 
woman was ever seen upon Belle Isle while the Union 
captives were there. Many methods of cruelty to 
aggravate the sufferings of the prisoners on Belle Isle 
were resorted to. Unnecessary restrictions ; brutal 
treatment of slight and oftentimes unconscious offend- 
ers ; deprivation of the use of the running water, for 
bathing, in the summer, and scores of other operations 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIJfE OF FLORENCE. 401 

calculated to crush the life out of the poor men. The 
sick were tardily taken to hospitals, there neglected 
and prematurely returned ; and every precaution seems 
to have been taken to secure a daily diminution of the 
strength of the victims. As at Libby, so on Belle Isle, 
food and clothing sent to captives by friends, were with- 
held, and often appropriated by the Confederates. "As 
the weary months drew on, hunger told its inevitable 
tale on them all. They grew weak and emaciated. 
Many found that they could not walk; when they 
attempted it a dizziness and a blindness came, and they 
fell to the ground. Diarrhoea, scurvy, congestion of 
the lungs, and low fevers set in. And what was done 
in prison and hospital .to our private soldiers on Belle 
Isle, and to our officers in Libby, was done nearly all 
over the South. The very railroads can speak of inhu- 
man transportations from one point to another of the 
sick, the wounded, and the unwounded together, 
crowded into cattle and baggage cars, lying and dying 
in the filth of sickness, and the blood of undressed 
wounds." But we will consider the revolting picture 
of atrocities at Libby Prison and Belle Isle no longer. 
It remains for us only to briefly notice Andersonville 
Prison, the most extensive, as it was the most infamous 
of all the prison pens into which Union captives were 
gathered. It was an unhealthy locality, on the side of 
a red -clay hill, near Anderson Station, on the South- 
western Railroad, in Georgia, about sixty miles south 
from Macon, and surrounded by the richest of the cot- 
ton and corn-growing regions of that Sta-te. This site 
was selected, it is said, at the suggestion of Howell 
Cobb, the commander of the district, by Captain W. S. 

Winder, son of the Confederate commissary of prison- 
51 



402 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

ers. It comprised twenty-seven acres of land, with a 
swamp in its centre. A choked and sluggish stream 
flowing ont of another swamp, crawled through it, while 
within rifle-shot distance from it flowed a large brook 
fifteen feet wide and three feet deep, of pure, delicious 
water. Had this been inclosed within the pen, the pris- 
oners might have drank and bathed as much as they 
pleased. As that would have endangered the success 
of the murderous scheme of the conspirators, it was not 
included. Another comfort was denied. The spot se- 
lected for the pen was covered with pine trees, which 
would have made a grateful shade for the captives. 
Winder gave orders for them to be cut down. When a 
spectator ventured to suggest that the shade would 
alleviate the sufierings of the captives, that officer, act- 
ing under higher authority, replied : " That is just what 
I am not going to do ! I will make a pen here for the 
damned Yankees, where they will rot faster than they 
can be sent." Howell Cobb issued orders for six hun- 
dred negroes to be impressed for the purpose of con- 
structing a stockade around the designated inclosure. 
It received its first prisoners (soldiers of the New Hamp- 
shire, Connecticut, New Jersey and Michigan infantry) 
eight hundred in number, on the 15th of February, 
1864, when batteries were planted at four points, bear- 
ing on the inclosure, and a heavy guard was establish- 
ed, numbering at one time three thousand six hundred 
men. The pen was a quadrangle, with two rows of 
stockades, from twelve to eighteen feet in height, and 
seventeen feet from the inner stockade was the "dead- 
line," over which no man could pass and live. Raised 
above the stockade were fifty-two sentry boxes, in each 
of which was a guardsman, perpetually— ready and eager 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 403 

to "kill a Yankee" whenever the infraction of a rule 
would permit. The perpetrators of such murders were 
generally rewarded by the Winders with a furlough. 
The fiendish intentions of these men were carried out as 
far as possible, and the atrocities committed in the great 
prison-pen there established were awful in the extreme. 
It is difficult to write with calmness, with the terrible 
testimony in full volume before us. The details are too 
shocking even to make it proper to present an abstract 
laere. Suffice it to say, that Winder, with his son, ne- 
phew, Wirtz, and others, performed their horrid task, 
with full license to do as they pleased, with alacrity 
and awful effect. At one time more than thirty thous- 
and human beings— the fathers, husbands, brothers, 
sons, of anxious, waiting, watching women in desolate 
homes hundreds of miles away, were confined on that 
eighteen acres of land, reeking with generators of 
disease and death ; sometimes parched with the sun, at 
others flooded with filthy water ; exposed to frost and 
heat ; to the bullets of brutal guards, used in wanton 
sport ; beaten, bruised and cursed ; driven to madness 
and idiocy ; starved into skeletons ; and, worse than all, 
tortured by the false declaration, made only to lacerate, 
that their Government had forsaken them, thus leaving 
them no other hope for relief from misery than death. 
To nearly thirteen thousand suff'erers that everlasting 
relief came. The graves of twelve thousand nine hun- 
dred and twenty of the victims tell the dreadful tale. 
Of these only about four hundred and fifty are un- 
known. It was pleaded, in extenuation, that the Con- 
federates had not the means for feeding the Union pris- 
oners, and that the lack of food for them was caused 
by its great scarcity. The committee of the Sanitary 



404 SOHTHERN PRISONS; 

Commission say that, after collecting all testimony pos- 
sible to be obtained, "it appears that the Southern 
army has been, ever since its organization, completely 
equipped in all necessary respects, and that the men 
have been supplied with everything which would keep 
them in the best condition of mind and body, for the 
hard and desperate service in which they were engaged. 
They knew nothing of famine and freezing. Their 
wounded and sick were never neglected. So do the few 
details of fact that could be extracted without suspi- 
cion of their object, from the soldiers of the Southern 
army, confirm the reasoning which accounts for its effi- 
ciency. The conclusion is inevitable. It was in their 
power to feed sufficiently, and to clothe, whenever 
necessary, their prisoners of war. They were perfectly 
able to include them in the military establishments, but 
they chose to exclude them from the position always 
assigned to such, and in no respect to treat them like 
men taken in honorable warfare. Their commonest 
soldier was never compelled, by hunger, to eat the dis- 
gusting rations furnished at the Libby to United States 
officers. Their most exposed encampment, however 
temporary, never beheld the scenes of suffering which 
occurred daily and nightly among United States sol- 
diers in the encampment on Belle Isle. The excuse 
and explanation are swept away. There is nothing 
now between the Northern people and the dreadful 
reality." 

It was pleaded that the conspirators and military 
officers nearest to them were ignorant of the cruelties 
inflicted by these subordinates. And General Robert 
E.Lee — " a greatly over-rated military leader — a man 
of routine, cold, undemonstrative, ambitious, the pet of 



on, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. 405 

the Virginians because he was a member of one of their 
'first families,' without the moral courage to take the 
responsibility — so popular with the army that he might 
have ended the war any time after the capture of "At- 
lanta," as one of the most successful of the Confeder- 
ate military leaders said to the writer, — " Robert E. Lee, 
the commander of the army of Northern Virginia, never 
a hundred miles from Richmond after the autumn of 
1863, and in constant personal communication with that 
city, the place of his family residence, actually de- 
clared before the Joint Committee on Reconstruction, 
that he was not aware of any bad treatment suffered by 
Union prisoners — was not aware that any of them died 
of cold and starvation— that no report was ever made 
to him of the sad condition of Union prisoners any- 
where — that he never knew who was in command at 
Andersonville, Salisbury, or other prison-pens, until 
after the war ; and that he ' knew nothing in the world' 
of the alleged cruelties about which complaints had 
been made." 

If General Lee spoke truly, he exhibited one of the 
most remarkable cases on record of ignorance of facts 
which it was his business to know as commander of a 
department, in which it was charged that these atrocities 
had been committed. He might have known, what the 
records of the Confederate "Government" now in Wash- 
ington city show, that so early as September, 1862, the 
fact of cruelties towards Union prisoners was so well 
known to all the world that the conspirators felt the 
necessity of official action, and that Augustus R. Wright, 
chairman of a committee of the "House of Represen- 
tatives," made a report on the prisons at Richmond 
confining Union captives, to George W. Randolph, then 



406 SOUTHERN prisons; 

" Secretary of War," in which report it was said that 
the state of things was "terrible beyond description ;" 
that "the committee could not stay in the room over a 
few seconds;" that a change must be made, and that 
"the committee make the report to the Secretary of 
War, and not to the House, because in the latter case it 
would be printed, and for the honor of the nation, such 
things must be kept secret." He might have known 
that, on the ninth of December, 1863, Henry S. Foote 
offered a resolution in the Confederate "House of Ee- 
presentatives," for the appointment of a committee of 
inquiry concerning the alleged ill-treatment of Union 
prisoners, and that in the course of his remarks, he 
admitted the charges to be true, by saying, alluding to 
Commissary-General Northrup : "This man has placed 
our Government in the attitude charged by the enemy, 
and has attempted to starve the prisoners in our hands !" 
Foote then read testimony which, he said, was on record 
in Quid's office, to prove that the charge was true ; and 
he declared that Northrup had actually said, in an 
elaborate report to the Secretary of War, that "for the 
subsistence of a human Yankee carcass, a vegetable 
diet was the most proper that could be adopted." 
Foote' s humane resolution, however, was voted down, 
and no investigation was allowed at that time. In the 
spring of 1865 a committee published a report, in which 
they admitted the mining of Libby Prison, and, by 
implication, the charges of cruelty and starvation, 
but tried to give excuses for the deeds. Foote, in a 
letter written from Montreal, after the appearance of 
that report, commented upon it severely, and declared 
that a "Government officer of respectability" told him 
"that a systematic scheme was on foot for subjecting 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREN^CE. 407 

these unfortunate men to starvation.' He further de- 
clared that Northrup's fiendish proposition was "en- 
dorsed by Seddon, the Secretary of War," who said, 
substantially, in that endorsement, that "the time had 
arrived for retaliation upon the prisoners of war of the 
enemy." In that letter Foote proved (1) That the 
starving of Union prisoners was known to the Confed- 
erate authorities ; (2) That the Rebel Commissary Gen- 
eral proposed it ; (3) That the Rebel Secretary of War 
approved and endorsed it ; (4) That Robert Ould, Rebel 
Commissioner of Exchange, knew it ; and (5) That the 
Rebel House of Representatives knew of it, and en- 
deavored to prevent an investigation. Foote said the 
proofs were in the "War Department, which was after- 
wards burned. Still General Lee knew nothing about 
it. Lee might have remembered that a committee of the 
Christian Commission, in 1864, appeared before his 
lines, and sought access to the prisoners in Richmond 
and on Belle Isle, to afford them relief, with the under- 
standing that a similiar commission would be allowed 
to go to the prisons of Confederate captives, and that 
they were not allowed to pass, because the authorities 
at Richmond dared not let the outside world know, 
from competent witnesses, the horrible truths such a 
visit would have discovered. He might have read, all 
through the year 1864, in the Northern papers, which 
he received almost daily, the grave charges concerning 
the treatment of prisoners at Richmond, and also the 
report of the Committee of the United States Sanitary 
Commission, published seven months before the end of 
the war. And any day, while visiting his family in his 
elegant brick mansion on Franklin Street, he might 
have stepped out upon its upper gallery on the south. 



408 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

and with his field-glass, looked into the ghastly faces 
of the starved, blistered, freezing captives on Belle Isle ; 
or he might have walked down Gary Street for the space 
of eight minutes, and looked into Libby Prison, to 
satisfy himself whether a committee of the " Confed- 
erate Congress " had told the truth or not. He seems 
not to have considered such inquiries proper to be im- 
posed upon him as a department commander, as gen- 
eral-in -chief, as a man, or as a Christian. His remark- 
able ignorance concerning the matter, was equaled only 
by the treachery of his memory, which did not allow 
him to recollect whether he ever took an oath of alle- 
giance to the " Southern Confederacy." What General 
Lee was so ignorant of, the Confederate authorities and 
everybody else were familiar with, as ample testimony 
shows. When the starvation plan had accomplished 
its work, and in all the Confederate prisons the Union 
captives were generally no better for service than dead 
men — an army of forty thousand skeletons — Ould, the 
Rebel Commissioner, proposed to General Butler a re- 
sumption of an exchange, man for man, August 10, 
1864. The conspirators knew how well their men had 
been fed in Northern prisons, and how strong and effec- 
tive they were for service, and they were now willing 
and anxious, in order to secure the advantages which 
their cruelty for a year had given them, to have their 
hale soldiers back. That such was the relative condi- 
tion of the respective prisoners — Union skeletons and 
Confederate men in full vigor — Ould exultingly declared 
in a letter to General Winder, from City Point, where 
exchange had been resumed, in which he said : "The 
arrangement I have made works largely in our favor. 
We get rid of a set of miserable wretches, and receive 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOI]S"E OF FLORENCE. 409 

some of the best material I ever saw." On account of 
this state of things General Grant hesitated to resume 
exchange. Finally, at the middle of autumn, arrange- 
ments for special exchanges were made, and Lieutenant 
Colonel Mulford went with vessels to Savannah, aftei- 
about 12,000 Union prisoners from Andersonville and 
elsewhere. They were brought to Annapolis, Maryland, 
and in them the writer saw the horrible workings of the 
barbarity of the conspirators. 

No supposition of negligence, or indifference, or acci- 
dent, or insufficiency, or destitution, or necessity, can 
account for all this. So many, and such positive 
forms of abuse and wrong cannot come from negative 
causes. The conclusion is unavoidable, therefore, that 
these privations and sufferings have been designedly 
inflicted by the military and other authority of the Rebel 
Government, and cannot have been due to causes which 
such authorities could not control. SucTi was the ver- 
dict of a committee of men whose ability, honor, integ- 
rity, and fidelity to the duties demanded by truth and 
justice, no man can rightfully question. It is the testi 
mony of eye and ear — witnesses which no one, compe- 
tent to speak, has ever dared to deny. We read with 
feelings of horror of the cruelties of the British in India, 
in blowing their Sepoy prisoners to atoms from the 
muzzles of cannon. That act was merciful compared 
to the fiendishness exhibited toward Unison prisoners 
in the late civil war. We read with feelings of horror 
of the tortures formerly inflicted upon prisoners by the 
savages of our wilderness. These were mild suffer- 
ings compared with those to which the conspirators and 
their instruments subjected the soldiers of the Republic 

when they fell into their hands. 
62 



410 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

VALUABLE DOCUMENTS. 

Medical Report of Dr. Ellerslie Wallace. — The Opinion of Reliable 
Scientific Authorities. — Treatment of the Rebel Prisoners by the 
United States contrasted with the Treatment of the Union Pris 
oners by the Rebel Authorities. — Letter of Major General Butler 
on the Exchange Question. 

List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 

A fearful battle render'd you in music : 

Turn him to any cause of policy. 

The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 

Familiar as his garter. < 

Shakspeare''s Henry V. 

One of the most valuable medical reports upon re- 
cord, as regards certain considerations in relation to the 
treatment adopted by the Confederate authorities towards 
United States soldiers, held by them as prisoners of war, 
with the view of determining the influence of this treat- 
ment upon the hygiene and mortality of its subjects, is 
that prepared by Dr. Wallace. He says : 

"In investigating the subject before us, the question 
of food^ takes rank as of first importance ; and, in con- 
sidering this point, there are certain well established 
facts relating to the subject of alimentation, to which we 
must refer. 

In deciding upon the quantity of food requisite for 
the due support of a man, Professor Dalton says that 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOHiTE OF FLOREISTCE. 411 

' any estimate of tlie total quantity should state also 
the kind of food used,' as 'the total quantity will neces- 
sarily vary with the quality, since some articles contain 
much more alimentary material than others.' And Sur- 
geon General Hammond says, ' it is necessary that the 
food of man should consist of a variety of substances, 
in order that the several functions of the organism may 
be properly carried on ; no fact in dietetics is better estab- 
lished than this.' And Professor Dunglison speaks to 
the same end thus : ' Man is so organized as to be adap- 
ted for living on both animal and vegetable substances, 
and if we lay aside our mixed nutriment, and restrict 
ourselves wholly to the products of the one or the other 
kingdom, scurvy supervenes.' 

Dalton states that the amount of solid food required 
during twenty -four hours by a man in full health and 
taking free exercise in the open air, is, of bread, nineteen 
ounces ; meat, sixteen ounces ; and butter, three and a 
half ounces ; in all, thirty-eight and a half ounces.' 
Hammond places the amount of solid food ' required to 
maintain the organism of a healthy adult American, up 
to the full measure of physical and mental capability, 
at about forty ounces, of which two-thirds should be 
vegetable, and one-third animal.' 

Moreover, due variety in the food is but second in 
importance to sufficient quantity, (See Pereira on food 
and diet.) In fact, the last named physiologist declares 
that ' no matter how nutritious food may be, it is far 
better to exchange it for that even less nutritious, than 
to continue an unvarying sameness.' 

And as to the relation of food to temperature : ' In 
temperate climates, the seasons exercise an influence, not 
only over the quality, but the quantity of food taken 



412 SOUTH£R]Sr PEISOTiTS ; 

into the system. Most persons eat more in winter than 
in summer. The cause is doubtless to be found in the 
fact, that in cold weather a greater (Quantity of respira- 
tory food is required in order to ko^ep up the animal 
heat, than in hot weather, when th<» external tempera- 
ture more nearly approaches the temperature of the 
body. 'He who is well fed,' observes Sir John Ross, 
' resists cold better than the man who is stinted, while 
starvation from cold follows but too soon a starvation in 
food.' And Sir John Franklin, in his narrative of a 
journey to the Polar Sea, writes, ' no quantity of cloth- 
ing could keep us warm while we fasted.' ' In tropical 
climates and in hot seasons, the system requires a 
smaller quantity of food than in colder countries and in 
cold seasons ' Individuals whose business requires 
much bodily exertion, or liat they should spend much 
of their time in the open air, eat more than those of 
sedentary habits. And we have, from the authority of 
Carpenter, in his work on Human Physiology, that ' a 
considerable reduction in the amount of food sufficient 
for men in regular active service, is, of course, admissible 
where little bodily exertion is required, and where there 
is less exposure to low temperatures.' 

The ration of the British soldier is, at home stations, 
sixteen ounces of bread, and twelve ounces of uncooked 
meat ; at foreign stations, four ounces more of meat are 
allowed. Any extras are bought by the soldier out of 
his own funds. The French soldier in the Crimea had 
forty-two and five-eighths ounces of solid food, about 
ten and a half ounces of which were animal, the rest 
vegetable. In time of peace his ration is less. 'The 
American soldier is .better fed than any other in the 
world. This is proved by the healthy condition of the 



OR, JOSIi:, THE HEROIXE OF ELORENCI. 41* 

troops. Scurvy, one of the first diseases to inalce Us 
appearance when the food is of inferior quality, has 
prevailed to so slight an extent, &c.' His ration of solid 
food is about fifty-two and a half ounces, with a fair 
range for variety ; and extra issues of pickles, fruits. 
and special vegetables, are made, when the metdical 
officers deem them necessary. This ration is more than 
the man is generally able to consume, and the surplus 
is resold to the government for his beneiit. 

The rations issued for the Rebel soldiers held by our 
government as prisoners of war, were the same as for 
the United States garrison troops and soldiers on active 
service, except the bread ration, which was four ounces 
less ; and the amount given, was, of solid food, forty- 
three ounces, besides extra vegetables, etc., sometimes, 
which were procured by sale of the surplus, as above 
noted in the case of the Federal troops. No material 
change was made until the iirst of June, 1864, after 
which date the amount yi't^en was reduced to thirty-four 
and a half ounces, while the range for variety of articles 
remained unchanged, and from the excess of the rations 
issued, the surplus fund for the use of the prisoners 
was larger than before. That this amount will be sufTi- 
cient for comfort and health in warm weather, and under 
the inactive life of the prisoner, we must infer from thp 
statements of Pereira, Hammond and Carpenter, (above), 
and ma}^ likewise consider proven by the fact, that »i 
Fort Delaware, ,even in the cold weather of the past 
winters, the prisoners could not consume all that was 
given them, and that large quantities of food were 
secreted, and wasted by them. By authority of the 
War Department, the same Regulations are observed 
id all stations, where prisoners of war were held, and of 



414 SOTTTHEBIT PRISOTTS ; 

course at all such stations, the same general condition 
of things must prevail. 

Our evidence exhibits that all needful clothing and 
hlanJcets, in some cases even to excess, as well as good 
and adequate sJielter, with sufficient fuel for comfort- 
able warmth, were furnished by the United States Gov- 
ernment to the Rebel prisoners. 

In our visit to Fort Delaware we passed through the 
barracks and enclosures containing about eight thou- 
sand prisoners. We observed that these men were in 
good physical condition, and presented the aspect of 
health and strength ; as was the case at other stations. 
The careful attention to cleanliness urged, and sometimes 
even enforced, by the United States officers in charge, 
doubtless contributes to their general good condition in no 
small degree. We were unable to observe any difference 
between the treatment of the Rebels and the United States 
soldiers in the hospital at Fort Delaware, or in Lincoln 
Hosj)ital near Washington. The evidence proves the 
same arrangements of ward, and bed, and diet, to have 
been made, with all other necessary appliances, for the 
Rebel as for the Union soldier, in the time of sickness, 
at all stations where prisoners of war are held by the 
United States Government. 

When we come to investigate the testimony in relation 
to the treatment of United States soldiers while prison- 
ers in the hands of the Rebels, we find a most serious 
diiference from the state of things above described. 

We learn from those returned that the rations given 
them varied at different times and places, but their de- 
clarations all concur in this, that they had not food 
enough to sustain their strength, nor to satisfy their 
hunger; and though these men were held captive at 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 415 

various tunes, and for a varying period, and at various 
places, yet their average statements are the same with 
little limitation. 

Wheat bread was given to some of them for a short 
time, but the bread was generally made of corn meal. 
The largest daily ration of wheat bread of which we 
have evidence, would weigh about eleven (11) ounces, 
and the smallest but little more than three (3) ounces. 
The largest daily ration of corn bread was in bulk from 
thirty-one (31) to thirty -two (32) cubic inches, represent- 
ing rather more than twelve (12) ounces of corn meal, 
while the smallest represented but four (4) ounces. The 
ration of meat was, in few instances, from four (4) to 
six (6) ounces, but generally about two ounces, though 
in some cases it was less than this. 

The meat was irregularly given ; not often daily, and 
to some, only at intervals of days, or even several weeks, 
and when meat was served, the bread was, in many in- 
stances, diminished. 

About half a pint of soup containing sweet potato, or 
generally beans or peas in amount about two ounces, 
was sometimes given, with or without meat in different 
cases. The beans and peas were occasionally given raw 
and dry. 

The maximum amount of solid food for one day, des- 
cribed, was, - - - - - 10 oz. bread. 

6 oz. beef. 
With half a pint of soup made of th«e 

water in which the beef was boiled, and 

containing about two ounces of beans 

and peas, and therefore representing, 2 oz. 

Total, - - - - 18 oz. 



41 6 SOUTHEKN PKISOXS ; 

The minimum amount was about, - 4 oz. bread. 

1 oz. beef. 



Total, - - - - 5 oz. 

And so, between five (5) and eighteen (18) ounces the 
rations varied, and in the article of meat, especially, 
was the great deficiency. 

But it is necessary to note the character also of the 
rations. The quality of the wheat bread appears to 
have been good, but that of corn bread decidedly the 
reverse. It was made of meal which was coarsely 
ground and rough, contained all the hull (or bran), 
often whole grains of corn, with fragments of cob or 
husk intermingled ; frequently ill-baked, or over-baked, 
and sour and musty withal. 

The soup was, by universal declaration of the wit- 
nesses, repulsive in odor and disgusting in flavor. It 
appears to have been made of the water in which the 
beef was boiled. Gravel and sand were the least objec- 
tionable of the impurities found in it. The beans and 
peas issued were generally w^orm-eaten, and contained 
these insects in quantities, so that they would be float- 
ing on the surface, or intermixed throughout the mass of 
soup and beans. 

Dunglison, in the work before quoted, says that 
' Corn bread, with those unaccustomed to its use, is apt 
to produce diarrhoea, in consequence probably of the 
presence of the husk, with which it is always more or 
less mixed, &c.,' and it is but little adapted to those liable 
to bowel affections, &c.' And Dr. Hassall says, ' In 
those unaccustomed to its use, maize is considered to 
excite, and to keep up a tendency to diarrhoea.' Every 
one is aware of the laxative influence of so-called bran 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOnSTE OF FLORENCE. 417 

bread, which is due to the physical action of the hull of 
the grain upon the delicate lining membrane of the stom- 
ach and bowels, acting thereupon as an excitant or irri- 
tant, though tempered by the bland influence of the 
wheaten flour. Now what must be the result when the 
meal is of corn^ and coarse, and intermixed with hull 
and grain entire, with husk and cob in fragments, 
among our Northern troops, who are, for the most part, 
' unaccustomed to the use of corn meal % ' We see by 
the evidence, that some of the men observed the influence 
of this bread, in producing the diarrhcsa with which so 
many were afili^ted. 

The character of the soup, as above described, would 
stamp it as entirely unfit for food, and upon men already 
suflering from diarrhoea, the evil influence of such a com- 
pound is but too plainly to be imagined. The evidence 
shows that some could not eat it, though hungry to 
starvation. 

The average amount of meal allowed, was so small 
that it is not worthy of special consideration ; and as to 
variety and change of diet, upon which all physiolo- 
gists lay so great stress, — it is not in the Record, — there 
was none of it. 

How do these amounts and qualities compare with 
the maximum forty-three ounces, or the minimum 
thirty -four and a half ounces of standard Government 
food, of excellent quality, with abundant room for 
variety, and extra issues of fresh vegetables accord- 
ing to necessity, which the United States Government 
allows its prisoners? The question may be answered 
by contrasting the exhausted, the attenuated, the melan- 
choly, the imbecile, the dying, and the dead, Union sol- 
diers, returning home from Richmond — with the cheer- 
53 



418 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; 

fal, healthy, and vigorous, Southerners, held at, or re- 
leased from the various United States stations referred 
to in the appended testimony. 

Let us look now at the consequence of deficiency of 
food, as explained by students and observers of the 
subject. 

In the medical and surgical history of the British 
army which served in Turkey and the Crimea, we find 
that ' during January, 1855, by the deficiency of food, 
the efficiency of the whole army was seriously compro- 
mised. Disease was simply the more overt manifesta- 
tion of a pathological state of the system, which was all 
but universal, and indicated the worst grades of it. Fe- 
ver and affections of the bowels represented the forms 
in which morbid actions were usually presented, while 
gangrene and scurvy indicated those privations and 
that exposure from which these diseases were mainly 
derived.' Again, 'in starvation, the tissues of the body 
are consumed for the production of heat, and rapid loss 
of weight is the consequence. The other vital processes 
all involve decomposition of the substance of organs, 
and add to the loss which the body undergoes. From 
insufficient foodi for a few weeks, disease is almost inva- 
riably induced ; typhus and typhoid fever, scurvy and 
ancemia are the consequences. Dr. Carpenter, in his 
Human Physiology, says, ' the prisoners confined in Mill 
Bank Penitentiary, in 1823, who had previously re- 
ceived an allowance of from thirty-one to thirty-three 
ounces of dry nutriment daily, had this allowance sud- 
denly reduced to twenty-one ounces, — animal food being 
almost entirely excluded from the diet scale. They 
were at the same time subjected to a low grade of tem- 
perature, and to considerable exertion ; in the course of 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIKE OF FLORENCE. 419 

a few weeks ^ the health of a large proportion of the in- 
mates began to give way. The first symptoms were loss 
of color, and diminution of health and strength, subse- 
quently diarrhcea^ d^ysentery, scurny, and lastly ady- 
namic fevers, or headache, vertigo, convulsions, ma- 
niacal delirium, appoplexy, &c. After death, ulcerations 
of the mucous lining of the alimentary canal were very 
commonly found ; fifty-two per cent, were thus affected. 
That the reduction of the allowance of food was the 
main source of the epidemic, was proved. 

We appeal here to Chossat' s Inquiries, resulting in 
the proof of this curious effect of insufficient nutri- 
ment, that it produces an incapability of digesting even 
the small amount consumed.' ' So that in the end, the 
results are the same as those of entire deprivation of 
food, the total amount of loss being almost exactly iden- 
tical, but its rate being less.' 

But in addition to our starvation diet, our evidence 
furnishes proof of confinement to over-crowded rooms, 
without proper ventilation — of want of clothing — want 
of shelter — and denial of suitable means of warmth, 
whether by blankets or by fuel, and this even during 
the fall, winter and spring, just passed. 

* Overcrowding, imperfect ventilation, and want of 
cleanliness, are three conditions usually associated, and 
may be designated by the single term Crowd Poison- 
ing.^ The evidence exhibits that about twenty square 
feet was, in some instances, all the superficial space 
permitted to each man confined in prison. And, on 
Belle Isle, it would appear that for a time there was 
little variation fi-om the same area. ' The air of crowded 
camps and habitations becomes contaminated through 
emanations given off during respiration, through effla 



420 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

via from the skin, and by decomposition from the vari- 
ous excreta. The nitrogenized matter carried into the 
air from the skin, and the products arising from the de- 
composition of the excreta, are sources of deadly mis- 
chief. The effects of overcrowding are not only mani- 
fested by the increased violence and the adynamic char- 
acter of all diseases occurring among those exposed, but 
the development and severity of the adynamic fevers 
appear particularly connected with this cause.' And 
again, ' To the organic matters emanating from the hu- 
man body, more than to any other cause, the injurious 
results of overcrowding are to be ascribed.' 

' The proofs are ample, that the emanations from the 
human body are of a decidedly deleterious character, 
when present in large amounts in the atmosphere in- 
haled. They are absorbed by the clothing, and even 
the walls of the room take them up and retain them for 
a long time.' ' If animals be kept crowded together in 
ill- ventilated apartments, they speedily sicken.' 'The 
continued respiration of an atmosphere charged with 
the exhalations of the lungs and skin, is the most po- 
tent of all the predisposing causes of disease.' 

But Dr. Woodward alludes to ' want of cleanliness ' 
as one of the elements of ordinary crowd-poisoning. 
Far more than ordinary was this 'want' in the Rebel 
prisons, especially on Belle Isle. A reference to the evi- 
dence will show that accumulation of filth of the most 
noisome character was compelled by prison discipline ; 
that important accommodations were denied during the 
night hours, resulting in unavoidable soiling of the 
quarters of the prisoners, while the means of bathing, 
though conyenient, were to so great an extent denied 
the prisoners, as to produce, in a large number of them, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE, 421 

a condition of the skin, which is not only a disease in 
itself, but is also a cause of disorders various and grave. 

We observed the surface of the bodies of a number 
who suffered thus ; it was of most remarkable aspect, 
appearing as though it had been covered with a heavy 
coat of common varnish, which had dried, and cracked, 
and was peeling up in scales of every size. To the 
touch, it was as sand-paper of irregular quality. The 
cuticle — both effete and living— lay, in masses, separated 
by fissures of varying extent and depth, through which 
watery and bloody fluids were seen exuding. The soles 
of the feet were like the sole of a plasterer's shoe — 
white, brown and yellow ; the cuticle dried and broken, 
and laminated variously. 

The functions of the skin, upon which physiologists 
lay so great stress, are here almost entirely unperformed, 
and hence we have 'gastric disturbances and diarrhoeas,' 
with suppression of that aeration of the blood — that 
true respiration, which, physiologists tell us, takes place 
through the skin. Hence the lungs are overtaxed, and 
congestions are induced. And when to this we add the 
depraved state of the blood of the sufferers, and their 
exposures to cold, and wet, and storm, by day and 
night, we have, in full quantity, those general and spe- 
cial conditions, which induce pulmonary diseases of 
every grade and character. 

On the question of clothing and warmth ; from what 
has been shown above, a corollary is directly deducible, 
viz : That if food be in limited quantity, low tempera- 
ture should be avoided, and external warmth duly main- 
tained. 'Artificial warmth may be made to take the 
place of nourishment otherwise required. And there is 
adequate ground for considering death by star'^ation^ as 



422 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

really death from cold. The temperature of the body 
is maintained with little diminution till the fat is con- 
sumed, and then rapidly falls, unless it be kept up by 
heat externally applied.' Now not only was external 
heat not granted by the Rebels to their prisoners, but 
their blankets were generally taken from them, as also 
some of their personal clothing. 

Further, Hhe sick, and feeble will not hear the low 
temperature, which to those in good condition, acts as 
a healthful stimulant. In diseases attended, with de- 
ficient power of circulation, congelation of the tissues 
is liable to occur, from the . iects of a temperature 
which could not give rise to it in a healthy subject.' We 
see that diarrhoea, scurvy, — and these two disorders ex- 
isting coincidently ' in the majority of cases of diarr- 
hoea,' — congestion of the lungs of atonic character, and 
' debilitas,' (as the medical records of the hospital have 
it,) all stand out prominently in the evidence, as being 
an almost constant condition among those who have 
been prisoners in Danville, Va., Richmond, Va., and 
especially on Belle Isle. The authorities hereinbefore 
quoted, show that these formidable disorders are the 
legitimate offspring of the treatment to which our men 
have been subjected while in the hands of the Rebels. 
Shall we be surprised that diseases obey the laws of their 
production, or that they flourish, luxuriant and rank, 
in a soil specially prepared for their reception? And 
are not all these ' diseases attended with deficient power 
of circulation V Are not the subjects of the same ' sick 
and feeble?' Is it at all surprising that they cannot 
bear the low temperature of a winter on Belle Isle, — clad 
only in worn out or scanty clothing, — with inadequate, 
or with no shelter, — with little fire, or generally none at 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 423 

all, — and having no resting place but the ground, in 
mud and frost and snow ? Nay, is it not a cause for 
wonder that ' congelation of the tissues' was not even 
more commor/ MHiong them ? Our evidence tells of many 
men freezing on Belle Isle, to loss of limb, and more, of 
life. 

We saw cases of ^amputation by frost' at the 
United States Hospitals, and Baltimore and Annapolis, 
and the ' Quarterly Report of the hospitals for the Fed- 
eral prisoners, Richmond, Ya.,' shows that of two thou- 
sand seven hundred and seventy -nine patients admitted 
in January, February and March, 1864, there were 
fifteen cases of gelatio, (or freezing) and fifty of gangrene 
from frozen leet ! And from the same document we find 
that two thousand one hundred and twenty-one, out of 
two thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine, were 
affected with debility, adynamic fevers, diarrhoea, dysen- 
tery, diseases of the chest, and scurvy — the very effects 
proved above to be produced by starvation, cold, over- 
crowding, filth and exposure ; and, as already men- 
tioned, the testimony of the United States surgeons at 
Annapolis and Baltimore shows that the great majoritj^ 
of our soldiers received from Rebel prisons suffered 
under the same affections. These surgeons further 
declare, that these diseases did not yield to ordinary 
medical treatment ; that they were most successfuly 
managed by ^nulifying the catise,^ that is, by nutrition 
and stimulation, with especial attention to cleanliness 
and fresh air, medical agencies being only accessories, 
and sometimes not resorted to at all. 

M. Fleury (cours d' hygiene) says: 'Sons le noni 
(XQfie'Gre de famine, M. de Meersman a trace un tableau 
complet et methodiqne de V etat Tnorbide que deneloppe 



424 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

V alimentation insuffisante, et qu'il dit avoir observe en 
1846 et 1847 dans les Flandres beiges.' He then recounts 
the article, which is too long to bear quotation here, but 
it is a most singularly accurate description of that which 
our soldiers returned from Rebel prisons state in regard 
to their own feelings and sufferings, — of those conditions 
which the United States surgeons at the Annapolis and 
Baltimore hospitals have delineated to us, — and which 
we witnessed and observed in our visits to the institu- 
tions above mentioned. 

It is utterly incorrect to charge the bodily attenuation, 
the mental imbecility, and the startling mortality which 
prevail so largely among the men from the prisons of 
the South, upon the mere diseases of which they are 
the subjects. If a man swallow a poisonous dose of 
arsenic, he will suffer pain, vomiting, diarrhcBa haemorr- 
hages and convulsions, even unto death ; are these 
'more overt manifestations,' — these necessary conse- 
quences of the morbific agent applied, — to be considered 
as the causes of the death ? Or shall we go to the true 
first cause direct, and say ' the man died from poison- 
ing by arsenic ? ' 

So have our men died — from cold and exposure, from 
crowd-poisoning, from starvation and from privation, 
while the way to death was roughly paved with disease 
of body and of mind, — mere minor manifestations of 
these allied powers of evil. 

But we further find a similar treatment, — similar in 
kind, though modified in degree, — dealt out to the 
wounded and the sick on Belle Isle and in Richmond. 
The evidence of those who have been under the care of 
surgeons at these stations is corroborated by the testi- 
mony of Colonel Farnsworth, and by that of Surgeons 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIIfE OF FLORENCE. 425 

Ferguson and Richards. The latter lay stress upon 
the offensive, and 'utterly unfit,' character of the beds 
and bedding, and declare that the diet was 'entirely 
insufficient to give them a proper chance of recovery,' 
and state further that there was a deficiency of medical 
supplies in the hospital for Federal prisoners, while the 
evidence is before us that at General Hospital No. 5, 
Richmond, the Confederate soldier had 'as much 
good food as he could eat, with good bedding and 
sheets;' and evidence to the same end appears in rela- 
tion to ' Confederate hospitals in the field.' 

On the subject of the mortality of Union prisoners in 
Rebel hands, we find that the 'Quarterly Report' above 
referred to, exhibits a record, which, though startling 
and fearful, is yet easily explained by the foregoing 
considerations. For what can be expected of men worn 
out, almost unto death, by the want of those things 
which are necessary for the body, — and then further re- 
duced by disease, — when subjected to such privations 
and noxious influences as those described by Surgeons 
Ferguson and Richards? This 'Report' shows a 
mortality among the sick of rather more than fifty per 
cent. ! How does this compare with that at the United 
States Army General Hospital at Annapolis, which is 
only eighteen per cent? Yet the cases at Annapolis 
were all brought by flag-of-truce boat; from City Point, 
Virginia, and were of the same general class as those in 
the 'Hospitals for the Federal Prisoners, Richmond, 
Virginia.' 

Further, w-e find that a ' Confederate official, whose 

evidence cannot be questioned, declared that of the 

numbers remaining at Belle Isle, then about eight 

thousand, (8,000), about twenty-five died daily, and that 

54 



426 SOUTIIEKIS' PRISON'S ; 

it would be but a few weeks before the deaths would 
count fifty a day.' From this, we lia,ve a mortality at 
Belle Isle in a ratio of one hundred and, fourteen per 
cent, per year, with double this amount in prospect. 

Again ; the Macon Journal and Messenger says that 
'there are now over twenty-seven thousand (27,000) 
prisoners at Andersonville, Georgia, among whom the 
deaths are from fifty to sixty a day,' or in a ratio of 
about from sixty-eight to eighty-one per cent, per year. 

Turn now to the mortality among the Rebel prisoners 
at Fort Delaware, where, in addition to the more ordi- 
nary causes of sickness and death among soldier-pris- 
oners, we find ' small -pox, the majority of the prisoners 
not having been vaccinated before they came here.' 
Also, a 'prostrated condition of the prisoners from 
Vicksburg, a great many of whom had to be carried, on 
their arrival here, from the boat to the hospital, and 
many of whom represented that they had been limited 
to half and quarter rations during the seige of Vicks- 
burg;' and 'prisoners from Vicksburg and the Missis- 
sippi Valley laboring under miasmatic influences, under 
which a great number of them died.' Yet with all 
these extra causes of death, the mortality for the entire 
year just closed, amounts to less than twenty-nine per 
cent., and when these special causes ceased to exist, it 
diminished rapidly, and during the three months of 
April, May, and June, it had fallen to helow a ratio of 
ten and a half per cent, per year, and was still di- 
minishing, while the sum total of prisoners was yet 
increasing. 

Again; at Johnson's Island, Sandusky bay, Ohio,— 
the climate of which station has been stigmatized by 
our enemies as insalubrious, and in high degree per- 



OR, JOSIE THE HEROIT^E «F FLOEEIfCE. 427 

nicious to the constitution of the Southerner, — the deaths 
among the rebel prisoners during the year 1863, with 
the prevalence of measles and small-pox, amounted to 
less tlian nine per cent.; and during May and June of 
this year, there were but six deaths, that is, in the ratio 
of less than two per cent, per year. 

By such contrasts of mortality at United States sta- 
tions, and at Rebel stations, argument and comment are 
struck dumb. 

There are still others, who are destined to fall victims 
to what we are compelled by the evidence to consider 
a carefully devised plan for the destruction of Union 
soldiers, by weapons as surely, though not so merci- 
fully, fatal as shot and shell and bayonet. We refer 
to such as, being broken down in mind and intellect, 
and vitiated in bodily vigor, and diseased beyond hope 
of recovery, by all the morbific causes which the Rebel 
authorities have arrayed against them during their im- 
prisonment, — and who being discharged from their 
country's service for disability, — will, in weeks and 
months to come, swell the local lists of mortality in the 
districts of their own homes." 

THE EXCHANGE QUESTION. 
It has not been thought necessary to allude to the 
subject of the suspension of the cartel of exchange, but 
as all who peruse this work will naturally enough ask 
the question, as to why the United States Government 
did not effect an exchange, so as to relieve our soldiers 
of the sufferings infflicted upon them by the Rebel au- 
thorities, I will now introduce to my readers a letter 
from Major-General Butler, Commissioner of Exchange, 
to the Confederate Commissioner, Ould, wliich discusses 



428 soTJiTHERisr PKisOiS^s ; 

this question pretty thoroughly, and which reads as 
follows : 

"Sir : — Your note to Major Mulford, Assistant Agent 
of Exchange, under date of 10th August, has been re- 
ferred to me. 

You therein state that Major Muiford has several 
times proposed 'to exchange prisoners respectively held 
by two belligerents, officer for officer and man for man,' 
and that 'the oifer has also been made by other offi- 
cials having charge of matters connected with the ex- 
change of prisoners,' and that 'this proposal has been 
heretofore declined by the Confederate authorities.' 
That you now ' consent to the above proposition, and 
agree to deliver to you (Major Mulford) the prisoners 
held in captivity by the Confederate authorities, pro- 
vided you agree to deliver an equal number of officers 
and men. As equal numbers are delivered from time 
to time, they will be declared exchanged. This proposal 
is made with the understanding that the officers and 
men on both sides who have been longest in captivity 
will be first delivered, where it is practicable.' 

From a slight ambiguity in your phraseology, but 
more, perhaps, from the antecedent action of your au- 
thorities, and because of your acceptance of it, I am in 
doubt whether you have stated the proposition with en- 
tire accuracy. 

It is true, a proposition was made both by Major 
Mulford and by myself, as Agent of Exchange, to ex- 
change all prisoners of war taken by either belligerent 
party, man for man, officer for officer, of equal rank, or 
their equivalents. It was made by me as early as the 
first of the winter of 1863-64, and has not been accepted. 
In May last I forwarded to you a note, desiring to know 



OR, J0SI:E, the heroine of FLORENCE. 429 

whether the Confederate authorities intended to treat 
colored soldiers of the United States army as prisoners 
of war. To that inquiry no answer has yet been made. 
To avoid all possible misapprehension or mistake here- 
after as to your offer now, will you now say whether 
you mean by 'prisoners held in captivity,' colored 
men, duly enrolled, and mustered into the service of 
the United States, who have been captured by the Con- 
federate forces; and if your authorities are willing to 
exchange all soldiers so mustered into the United States 
army, whether colored or otherwise, and the officers 
commanding them, man for man, officer for officer ? 

At the interview which was held between yourself 
and the Agent of Exchange on the part of the United 
States, at Fortress Monroe, in March last, you will do 
me the favor to remember the principal discussion 
turned upon this very point; you, on behalf of the Con- 
federate Government claiming the right to hold all ne- 
groes, who had heretofore been slaves, and not emanci- 
pated by their masters, enrolled and mustered into the 
service of the United States, when captured by your 
forces, not as prisoners of war, but upon capture to be 
turned over to their supposed masters or claimants, 
whoever they might be, to be held by them as slaves. 

By the advertisements in your newspapers, calling 
upon masters to come forward and claim these men so 
captured, I suppose that your authorities still adhere 
to that claim — that is to say, that whenever a colored 
soldier of the United States is captured by you, upon 
whom any claim can be made by any person residing 
within the States now in insurrection, such soldier is not 
to be treated as a prisoner of war, but is to be turned 
over to his supposed owner or claimant, and put at such 



430 SOTJTHEEISr PEISONS ; 

labor or service as that owner or claimant may choose, 
and the officers in command of such soldiers, in the lan- 
guage of a supposed act of the Confederate States, are 
to be turned over to the Governors of States, upon re- 
quisitions, for the purpose of being punished by the 
laws of such States, for acts done in war in the armies 
of the United States. 

You must be aware that there is still a proclamation 
by Jefferson Davis, claiming to be Chief Executive of 
the Confederate States, declaring in substance that all 
officers of colored troops mustered into the service of the 
United States were not to be treated as prisoners of war, 
but were to be turned over for punishment to the Gov- 
ernors of States. 

I am reciting these public acts from memory, and will 
be pardoned for not giving the exact words, although I 
believe 1 do not vary the substance and effect. 

These declarations on the part of those whom you 
represent yet remain unrepealed, unannulled, unre 
voked, and must, therefore, be still supposed to be au- 
thoritative. By your acceptance of our proposition, is 
the Government of the United States to understa.nd that 
these several claims, enactments, and proclaimed declar- 
ations are to be given up, set aside, revoked, and held 
for naught by the Confederate authorities, and that you 
are ready and willing to exchange man for man those 
colored soldiers of the United States, duly mustered and 
enrolled as such, who have heretofore been claimed as 
slaves by the Confederate States, as well as white sol- 
diers ? 

If this be so, and you are so willing to exchange these 
colored men claimed as slaves, and you will so officially 
inform the Government of the United States, then, as I 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 431 

am instructed, a principal difficulty in effecting ex- 
changes will be removed. 

As I informed you personally, in my judgment, it is 
neither consistent with the policy, dignity, or honor of 
the United States, upon any consideration, to allow 
those who, by our laws solemnly enacted, are made 
soldiers of the Union, and who have been duly enlisted, 
enrolled and mustered as such soldiers, who have borne 
arms in behalf of this country, and who have been cap- 
tured while fighting in vindication of the rights of that 
country, not to be treated as prisoners of war, and re- 
main unexchanged, and in the service of those who 
claim them as masters; and I cannot believe that the 
Government of the United States will ever be found to 
consent to so gross a wrong. 

Pardon me if I misunderstood you in' supposing that 
your acceptance of our proposition does not in good 
faith mean to include all the soldiers of the Union, and 
that you still intend, if your acceptance is agreed to, to 
hold the colored soldiers of the Union unexchanged, and 
at labor or service, because I am informed that very 
lately, almost contemporaneously with this offer on your 
part to exchange prisoners and which seems to include 
all prisoners of war, the Confederate authorities have 
made a declaration that the negroes heretofore held to 
service by owners in the States of Delaware, Maryland 
and Missouri are to be treated as prisoners of war, when 
captured in arms in the service of the United States. 

Such declaration that a part of the colored soldiers 
of the United States were to be prisoners of war, would 
seem most strongly to imply that others were not to be 
so treated, or in other words, that the colored men from 
the insurrectionary States are to be held to labor and 



432 SOFTHERN PRISONS ; 

returned to their masters, if captured by the Confed- 
erate forces while duly enrolled and mustered into, and 
actually in the armies of the United States. 

In the view which the Government of the United 
States takes of the claim made by you to the persons 
and services of these negroes, it is not to be supported 
upon any principle of national and municipal law. 

Looking upon these men only as property, upon 
your theory of property in them, we do not see how 
this claim can be made, certainly not how it can be 
yielded. It is believed to be a well settled rule of pub- 
lic international law, and a custom and part of the laws 
of war, that the capture of moveable property vests the 
title to that property in the captor, and therefore where 
one belligerent gets into full possession of property 
belonging to the subjects or citizens of the other belli- 
gerent, the owner of that property is at once divested 
of his title, which rests in the belligerent Government 
capturing and holding such possession. Upon this rule 
of international law all civilized nations have acted, 
and by it both belligerents have dealt with all property, 
save slaves, taken from each other during the present 
war. 

If the Confederate forces capture a number of horses 
from the United States, the animals immediately are 
claimed to be, and, as we understand it, become the 
property of the Confederate authorities. 

If the United States capture any moveable property 
in the rebellion, by our regulations and laws, in con- 
formity with international law, and the laws of war, 
such property is turned over to our Government as its 
property. Therefore, if we obtain possession of that 
species of property known to the laws of the insurrec- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 433 

tionary States as slaves, why should there be any doubt 
that that property, like any other, vests in the United 
States ? 

If the property in the slave does so vest, then the 
^^jus disponendi,'' the right of disposing of that prop- 
erty, rests in the United States. 

Now, the United States have disposed of the property 
which they have acquired by capture in slaves taken 
by them, by giving that right of property to the man 
himself, to the slave, i. e., by emancipating him and de- 
claring him free forever, so that if we have not mistaken 
the principles of international law and the laws of war 
we have no slaves in the armies of the United States. 
All are free men, being made so in such manner as we 
have chosen to dispose of our property in them which 
we acquired b}^ capture. 

Slaves being captured by us, and the right of proper- 
ty in them thereby vested in us, that right of property 
has been disposed of by us in manumitting them, as has 
always been the acknowledged right of the owner to do 
to his slave. The manner in which we dispose of our 
property while it is in our possession certainly cannot 
be questioned by you. 

Nor is the case altered if the property is not actually 
captured in battle, but comes either voluntary or invol- 
untary from the belligerent owner into the posession of 
the other belligerent. 

I take it no one would doubt the right of the United 
States to a drove of Confederate mules, or a herd of 
Confederate cattle, which should wander or rush across 
the Confederate lines into the lines of the United States 
army. So it seems to me, treating the negro as prop- 
erty merely, if that piece of property passes the Con- 
65 



434 SOUTHERTf PRISONS ; 

federate lines, and comes into the lines of United States, 
that property is as much lost to its owner in the Confed- 
erate States as would be the mule or ox, the property of 
the resident of the Confederate States, which should fall 
into our hands. 

If, therefore, the privilege of international law and 
the laws of war used in this discussion are correctly 
stated, then it would seem that the deduction logically 
flows therefrom, in natural sequence, that the Confeder- 
ate States can have no claim upon the negro soldiers 
captured by them from the armies of the United States, 
because of the former ownership of them by their citi- 
zens or subjects, and only claim such as result, under 
the laws of war, from their captor merely. 

Do the Confederate authorities claim the right to re- 
duce to a state of slavery free men, prisoners of war 
captured by them ? This claim our fathers fought against 
under Bainbridge and Decatur, when set up by the 
Barbary powers on the northern shore of Africa, about 
the year 1800, and in 1864 their children will hardly 
yield it upon their own soil. 

This point I will not pursue further, because I under- 
stand you to repudiate the idea that you will reduce free 
men to slavery because of captu're in war, and that you 
base the claim of the Confederate authorities to re-en- 
slave our negro soldiers, when captured by you, upon 
the '■'•jus post limini," or that principle of the law of na- 
tions which inhabilitates the former owner with his prop- 
erty taken by an enemy, when such property is recov- 
ered by the forces of his own country. 

Or in other words, you claim that, by the laws of na- 
tions and of war, when property of the subjects of one 
belligerent power, captured by the forces of the other 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF FLOEENCE. 435 

belligerent, is recaptured by the armies of the former 
owner, then such property is to be restored to its prior 
possessor, as if it had never been captured ; and, there- 
fore, under this principle your authorities propose to 
restore to their masters the slaves which heretofore be- 
longed to them which you may capture from us. 

But this post liminary right under which you claim 
to act, as understood and defined by all writers on 
national law, is applicable simply to im7not>ahle proper- 
ty, and that too, only after the complete re-subjugation 
of that portion of the country in which the property is 
sitaated; upon which this right fastens itself By the 
laws and customs of war, this right has never been ap- 
plied to movable property. 

True, it is I believe, that the Romans attempted to 
apply it to the case of slaves, but for two thousand 
years no other nation has attempted to set up this right 
as ground for treating slaves differently from other 
property. 

But the Romans even refused to re-enslave men cap- 
tured from opposing belligerents in a civil war, such as 
ours unhappily is. 

Consistently then with any principle of the law of 
nations, treating slaves as property merely, it would 
seem impossible for the Government of the United States 
to permit the negroes in their ranks to be re-enslaved 
when captured, or treated otherwise than prisoners of war. 

I have forborne, sir, in this discussion, to argue the 
question upon any other or different grounds of right 
than those adopted by your authorities in claiming 
the negro as property, because I understand that your 
fabric of opposition to the Government of the United 
States has the right of property in man as its corner- 



436 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

stone. Of course it would not be profitable in settling 
a question of exchange of prisoners of war to attempt 
to argue the question of abandonment of the very corner- 
stone of their attempted political edifice. Therefore I 
have admitted all the considerations which should apply 
to the negro soldier as a man, and dealt with him upon 
the Confederate theory of property only. 

I unite with you most cordially, sir, in desiring a 
speedy settlement of all these questions, in view of the 
great suffering endured by our prisoners in the hands 
of your authorities, of which you so feelingly speak. 
Let me ask, in view of that suffering, why you have 
delayed eight months to answer a proposition which by 
now accepting you admit to be right, just and humane, 
allowing that suflTering to continue so long ? One can- 
not lielp thinking, even at the risk of being deemed 
uncharitable, that the benevolent sympathies of the 
Confederate authorities have been lately stirred by the 
depleted condition of their armies, and a desire to get 
into the field, to affect the present campaign, the hale, 
hearty, and well fed prisoners held by the United States 
in exchange for the half-starved, sick, emaciated, and 
unserviceable soldiers of the United States now lan- 
guishing in your prisons. The events of this war, if we 
did not know before, have taught us that it is not the 
Northern portion of the American people alone who 
know how to drive sharp bargains. 

The wrongs, indignities, and privations suffered by 
our soldiers would move me to consent to anything to 
procure their exchange, except to barter away the hon- 
or and faith of the Government of the United States, 
which has been solemnly pledged to the colored soldiers 
in its ranks. 



OR, JOSIE THE HEKOIXE OF FLORENCE. 437 

Consistently with national faith and justice we can- 
not relinquish this position. With 3^our authorities it 
is a question of property merely. It seems to address 
itself to you in this form Will you suffer your soldier, 
captured in fighting your battles, to be in confinement 
for months rather than release him by giving for him 
that which you call a piece of property, and which we 
are willing to accept as a man ? 

You certainly appear to place less value upon your 
soldier than you do upon your negro. I assure you, 
much as we of the North are accused of loving property, 
our citizens would have no difficulty in yielding up any 
piece of property they have in exchange for one of their 
brothers or sons languishing in your prisons. Certainly 
there could be no doubt that they would do so were that 
piece of property less in value than five thousand dol- 
lars in Confederate money, which is believed to be the 
price of an able-bodied negro in the insurrectionary 
States. 

I trust that I may receive such a reply to the ques- 
tions propounded in this note as will tend to a speedy 
resumption of the negotiations in a full exchange of all 
prisoners, and a delivery of them to their respective 
authorities." 

I have thus described fully, fairly and, I believe, 
truthfully, the subject of the treatment of Union prison- 
ers of war by their Rebel opponents. No one can resist 
the impression which such a mass of evidence as is here 
collated must force upon every thinking mind. It is 
established beyond all question that the barbarities in- 
flicted upon Northern captives by their kinsmen of the 
South far exceeded those perpetrated by any civilized 
race, indeed often surpassed the inhumanity of the very 



438 SOUTHEEN PKISONS ; 

savages. Since the introduction of tlie Cliristiau relig- 
ion, at least war had heretofore been divested of ;^ome of 
its horrors and the captive had as a rule been treated 
with forbearance and reasonable kindness, while the law 
of exchange had been regarded, by means of which the 
prisoner might hope to regain his home and friends at 
no distant day. The Southern Rebellion presented the 
first and only spectacle of a contest in which the law of 
exchange was ignored and in which the hapless captives 
were wickedly and deliberately starved to death, that 
their horrible fate might appal the armies and nation of 
which they were a part and induce a peace which seemed 
desperate without such resorts. That the scheme failed 
of its objects was not the merit of the leaders of the 
Rebellion. 

How different from all this was the treatment bestowed 
upon the prisoners by the belligerents in the recent 
Franco-Prussian war! though it was a contest of ini- 
quity in the wicked ambition of one man, waged to 
cement his title to a usurped throne, yet the laws of 
humanity governed its guidance on the part of both 
French and Prussians. The prisoners captured by each, 
whether unhurt, wounded or sick were treated most 
honorably. The wounded and sick of the enemy were 
cared for by each nation with as much solicitude as 
were its own troops. The captives taken uninjured were 
transported by rail in comfortable carriages to plea- 
sant towns in the interior of the nation, and there 
enjoyed not only the comforts of life, but also the great- 
est amount of liberty compatible with the simple 
restraint from escape. They were allowed free and con- 
stant communication with their friends ; they received 
from their distant homes continuous tokens of love and 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 439 

remembrance. Kind ladies visited them, spoke words 
of consolation and encouragement, and soothed their 
captivity by acts of charity and loving pity. In the 
prisons of the South the prisoners were dead to their 
friends ; they underwent lingering and horrible deaths ; 
they received from their barbarous captors nothing but 
brutality and cruel contempt ; they were hated with a 
deadly hatred by the people who had formerly called 
themselves their brethren, and they gave to the world its 
grandest spectacle in modern times of men suffering all 
things and dying all deaths for liberty and nationality. 
The considerate course afterward pursued by civilized 
nations, especially the French and Prussians, is the 
world' s verdict upon the course of the Southern Rebels, 
the most triumphant contrast and the most severe con- 
demnation which could have been uttered. 



440 SOUTHEEN PEisoirs ; 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE END AT LAST. 

I am Exchanged, Dec. 13. — The famous City of Charleston. — My 
Return to my Home. — Visit to New York and Philadelphia. — 
Life and its Misfortunes. — Dissipation and the Result. — Our 
Young Ladies and Society. — Young Men and Business. — Re- 
union with my Regiment. — Army Life. — The Poetry and Re- 
ality of War. — How will Posterity look upon those Military 
Burial Places ? 

Liberty, like day. 

Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven 

Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. 

Cowper's Task. 

December 13, 1864, will always stand a white letter 
day in my calendar of days, the day on wliicli, then a 
captive at Florence, I was exchanged under the agree- 
ment made during the summer between the United 
States Government and the Confederate authorities for 
the exchange of 10,000 sick and wounded men on either 
side. I was then slightly indisposed, having for some 
time hardly been able to walk about, mainly through a 
renewed attack of the scurvy. The intelligence of the 
exchange, however, sent the blood boiling through my 
veins as of old, and I knew that my manhood and 
strength had not yet been destroyed, even by more 
than a year of barbarous imprisonment. "What 
days of blissful expectation were those that preceded 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOES-E OF FLORENCE. 441 

my departure ! The world, from which I had been 
hitherto secluded — the world, in which my fancy had 
so often delighted to roam — whose paths were strewn 
with fadeless roses — whose every scene smiled in 
beauty and invited to delight — where all the people 
were good, and all the good happy — ah ! then that 
world was bursting upon my view. Let me catch 
the rapturous remembrance before it vanishes ! it is 
like the passing lights of autumn, that gleam for a 
moment on a hill, and then leave it to darkness. I 
counted the days and hours that withheld me from 
this fairy land, it was in prison only that people 
were deceitful and cruel." I thanked God for his 
goodness in thus releasing me from the hands of my 
oppressors, and my heart burned at the thought of 
rejoining my regiment, which was then serving in front 
of Petersburg, under Gen. Grants of aiding in dealing 
the death blow to the falling Confederacy, and of then 
proceeding South and recovering my long lost bride. 

From Florence we were sent direct to Charleston, and 
there took steamer and sailed for Annapolis, Md. Of 
this doomed city of Charleston, Lieut. J. Ogden, of the 
First Wisconsin Cavalry, has composed the following 
beautiful and appropriate lines : — 

CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. 
I. 

Oh thou doomed city of the evil seed, 

Long nursed by baneful passion's heated breath 1 

Now bursts the germ, and lo, the evil deed 
Invites the sword of war. the stroke of death I 

Suns smile on thee, and yet thou smilest not ; 
66 



442 SOTTTHERN PRISONS; 

Thy fame, thy fashion are alike forgot. 
Consumption festers in thy inmost heart ; 
The shirt of Nessus fouls thy secret part. 

II. 

Lo, in thy streets — thy boast in other days — 
Grim silence sits, and rancorous weeds arise I 
No joyous mirth, no hymns of grateful praise, 

Greet human ears nor court the upper skies; 
But deadly pallor, and a fearful looking for 
The hand of vengeance and the sword of war. 
Thy prayer is answered, and around, above. 
The wrath of God and man doth hourly move. 

III. 

Thy foes are in thy heart, and lie unseen ; 

They drink thy life-blood and thy substance up; 
And though in pride thou usest to sit a queen, 

Justice at last commands the bitter cup. 
The blood of slaves upon thy skirts is found ; 
Their tears have soaked this sacrilegious ground. 
The chains that manacled their ebon arms 
Now clank about thine own in dread alarms. 

IV. 

Thy sanctuaries are forsaken now ; 

Dark moixld and moss cling to thy fretted towers; 
Deep rents and seams, where straggling lichens grow, 

And no sweet voice of prayer at vestal hours ; 
But voice of screaming shot and bursting shell, 
Thy deep damnation and thy doom foretell. 
The fire has left a swamp of broken walls. 
Where night-hags revel in thy ruined halls. 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 443 

V. 

Oh, vain thy boast, proud city, desolate ! 

Thy curses rest upon thy guilty head ! 
In folly's madness, thou didst desecrate 

Thy sacred vows, to holy Union wed. 
And now behold the fruit of this thy sin : 
Thy courts without o'errun, defiled within ; 
Gross darkness broods upon thy holy place ; 
Forsaken all, thy pride in deep disgrace. 

VI. 

Wail, city of the proud palmetto-tree ! 

Thy figs and vines shall bloom for thee no more! 
Thou scorn'dst the hand of God, that made thee free, 

In driving freemen from their native shore. 
Thy rivers still seek peacefully the sea, 
Yet bear no wealth on them, no joy for thee. 
Thy isles look out and bask beneath the sun, 
But silence reigns — their Sabbath is begun / 

VII. 

Blood ! BLOOD is on thy skirts, oh, city doomed ! 

The cry of vengeance hath begirt thee round; 
Here, where the citron and the orange bloomed, 

God's curse rests on the half-forsaken ground 1 
Thy treason, passion-nursed, is overgrown — 
Thy cup of wrath is full, is overflown. 
Repent, for God can yet a remnant save, 
But traitors and their deeds shall find the grave 1 

During our stay at Charleston we had occasion to 
visit the hospitals, and were especially charmed to notice 



444 SOFTHEKN PKisoisrs ; 

the zeal and kindness which those noble women, the 
Sisters of Charity, displayed towards our wounded and 
sick and which have been well commemorated by an 
able writer, as follows : 

''Confined as we are, so far away from every home 
comfort and influence, and from all that makes life 
worth living for, how quickly do we notice the first kind 
word, the passing friendly glance ! Can any prisoner, 
confined here, ever forget the "Sisters of Charity?" 
Ask the poor private, now suffering in those loathsome 
hospitals, so near us, if he can forget the kind look, the 
kind word given him by that " Sister," while burning 
with fever or racked with pain ? Many are the bunches 
of grapes, many the sip of its pure juice, does the suf- 
ferer get from her hands. They seem — they are min- 
istering angels ; and while all around us are our avowed 
enemies, they remain true to every instinct of woman- 
hood. They dare lift the finger to help, they do relieve 
many a sufferer. 

All through the South our sick and wounded sol- 
diers have had reason to bless the Sisters of Charity. 
They have ministered to their wants, and performed 
those kind womanly ofiices which are better to the sick 
than medicine, and so peculiarly soothing to the dying. 
These noble women have tended their sick beds when 
the other professedly Christian ladies of the South 
looked on in scorn, and turned away without even a 
kind word. They have done what some were too bitter 
and cruel to do ; they have done what others did not 
dare to do. They were some how permitted to bestow 
charities wherever charities were needed, without fear 
or molestation. Thek bounties were bestowed indis- 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 445 

criminately on Federal and Rebel sufferers, and bespoke 
a broad philanthropy, unlimited by party or church or 
nation. Many a poor soldier has followed them from 
ward to ward with tearful eyes, and remembered the 
poet's lines : — 

" Woman I Blest partner of our joys and woes ! 

Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, 
Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows, 

Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill I 
"When sorrow rends the heart, when feverish pain 

Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow, 
To soothe the soul, to cool the burning brain. 

Oh, who so welcome, and so prompt as thou I 
The battle's hurried scene, and angry blow, 

The death-encircled pillow of distress. 
The lonely moments of secluded woe — 

Alike thy care and constancy confess, 
Ahke thy pitying hand and fearless friendshiD bless" 

Were other denominations in the South as active in 
aiding us as the Catholics have been^ I might have some 
faith in Eebel Christianity." 

As we steamed out upon the ocean, and I cast my 
eyes back upon the low, cruel beach, ot Charleston 
Harbor, the whole bitterness of my long imprisonment 
seemed to rise up before me, and I cursed the land which 
could produce such a throng of barbarians and traitors; 
then my thoughts turned Northward, and in the bright 
visions of a future life my prison experience became but 
as a memory, never, indeed, to be forgotten, but in fu- 
ture to be looked back upon as a dream of horror woven 
into which were still some beautiful threads. In my 
heart lay the image of my wife, the guiding star of my 



446 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

existence, to a reunion with whom all my actions were 
planned. On the dark blue sea I first fully realized 
Byron' s glorious lines : — 

" Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll I 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; — upon the water j plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
"Without a grave, unknell'd, unconffin'd and unknown. 
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests : in all time, 
Calm or convuls'd — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of eternity — the throne 
Of the invisible, even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone." 

Our pitiable condition excited infinite compassion 
both among the officers and crew of the steamer, and 
among all persons at Annapolis. We were photo- 
graphed there as specimens of what Rebel atrocity 
could work. As for myself I was nothing but a skele- 
ton. I had almost lost my speech, and I could hardly 
stand. At the time I was in no condition to join my 
regiment or do aught but recuperate my wasted strength, 
and of course any action towards the recovery of my 
wife was impossible until the war should close, there- 
fore I was paid the large amount of money due me and 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 447 

given a thirty days' farlough. The following song of 
the Union prisoners coming from the Sonth was exceed- 
ing popular among the men at Annapolis at this period: 

THE SONG OF UNION PRISONERS, FROM DIXIE'S 

SUNNY LAND. 

« 

AIR — "twenty years AGO." 

Dear friends and fellow-soldiers brave, come listen to our song, 
About the rebel prisons and our sojourn there so long; 
Yet our wretched state and hardships great no one can understand, 
But those who have endured this fate in Dixie's sunny land. 

When captured by the chivalry (?) they stripped us to the skin, 
But failed to give us back again the value of a pin, 
Except some lousy rags of gray discarded by their band ; 
And thus commenced our prison life in Dixie's sunny land. 

With a host of guards surrounding us, each with a loaded gun, 
We were stationed in an open pkin, exposed to rain and sun; 
No tent or tree to shelter us, we lay upon the sand — 
Thus side by side great numbers died in Dixie's sunny land, 

This was the daily "Bill of fare" in that secesh saloon — 

No sugar, tea or coffee there at morning night or noon ; 

But " a pint of meal ground cob and all " was served to every man, 

And for want of fire we ate it raw in Dixie's sunny land. 

We were by these poor rations soon reduced to skin and bone, 
A hngering starvation — worse than death I you can but own. 
There hundreds lays, both night and day, by far to weak to stand. 
Till death relieved their sufferings in Dixie's sunny land. 

We poor survivors oft' were tried by many a threat and bribe, 
To desert our glorious " Union cause, " and join the rebel tribe ; 
Though fain were we to leave the place, we let them understand 
" We had rather die than thus disgrace our flag ! " in Dixie's land 



448 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Thus dreary days andnights rolled by — yes, weeks and months untold 
Until that happy time arrived when we were all paroled ; 
We landed at Annapolis, a wretched looking band, 
But glad to be alive and free from Dixie's sunny land. 

How like a dream those days now seem in retrospective view, 
As we regain our wasted strength, all dressed in " Union Blue " — 
The debt we owe our bitter foe shall not have long to stand, 
We shall pay it with a vengeance soon in Dixie's sunny land. 

My furlough I received January 2d. 1865, and on 
the evening of the 6th instant I arrived again at my 
home in Detroit, after an absence of about three years. 
Stopping that night at a liotel, the next morning I set 
out into tlie city to learn something, if possible, con- 
cerning my mother and the two sisters whom I had 
left in Detroit. Of the death of the former I had been 
informed while at Andersonville ; of the latter I had 
heard nothing whatever for long months. I found my 
way to the house where we formerly lived, but a strange 
face answered my knock at the door, and the lady 
confirmed the intelligence of my mother' s untimely fate. 
She knew nothing as to where my sisters were, and I 
went forth into the city not knowing where or to whom 
to turn for information and assistance. I walked the 
public streets, but met no familiar faces. I called at a few 
houses, whose inmates I had known well before the war, 
but they had removed, left the city, or perchance even 
died. I could hardly speak above a whisper, and peo- 
ple stared, astonished at my ghastly appearance. At 
last, as I was rapidly becoming discouraged, I by mere- 
est accident chanced to notice a gentleman of my ftxr- 
mer aquaintance entering a busines house. I went up 
to him and asked him if he knew me. He said my face 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 449 

looked rather familiar, but lie could not possibly re- 
member who I was. I told him my name was Bowling, 
and that I had just come home from the war. He seemed 
startled upon hearing the name, stared hard at me for a 
moment and recalling the old face, gi-eeted me witli 
infinite kindness and tenderness. Through him I learned 
of the whereabouts of my sisters, and was soon locked in 
their arms, where I experienced that pure, unalloyed 
joy which is found in sisterly afi^ection. 

jOuring the thirty days throughout which i remained m 
Detroit, I was treated witli the utmost kindness by both 
relatives and friends, and at the house of my married 
sister, which I made my home, the number of visitors that 
called upon me to hear my strange story and tender to 
me offices of kindness was legion. Under these friend- 
ly ministrations I rapidly, though not entirely, recovered 
my strength and partially my voice, and my health was 
in a fair way of becoming restored. 

February 1st, I bade them an affectionate adieu, and 
started on my return to Annapolis. I was four days 
upon the journey, and reported at headquarters at once 
on arriving. February 7th, I was sent to Camp Chase, 
at Columbus, Ohio, distant three miles from the city 
itself, and on February 12th, I received another fur- 
lough for thirty days, and returned to Detroit. 

For the more complete restoration of my health, I 
determined now to make a pleasure tour of considerable 
length, and went by way of Cleveland and Buffalo to 
New York city. I made the acquaintance of a rich 
merchant during my journey east, and found him a de- 
lightful companion in all respects. We stopped togeth- 
er at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and saw all of the great 

city which could be compressed into the brief space of 
57 



460 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

eight days. Accompanied by a couple of my friends, 
we traversed the gay Broadway, with its miles of gor- 
geous stores, its vast and stately hotels ; saw the crowd 
surging and swarming in and through it constantly, 
both day and night ; beheld from a distance its gam- 
bling hells, with which the street is perfectly invested, 
distinguished by the solidity and elegance of its en- 
trances, the steady, brilliant light which always burns 
in them over the doors, the air of perfect repose and 
quietness with which everything seems carried on,' and 
naught to indicate to the innocent passer-by that upon 
that second floor, in that elegantly furnished room, the 
walls of which are covered with beautiful and valuable 
pictures, where everj^thing breathes an air of refinement 
and grace, fortunes are nightly won and lost. We saw 
the beautiful Central Park, with its throngs of fashion- 
able ladies and gentlemen idling through it, the great 
Harlem Aqueduct near it, a gigantic work of art ; and, 
passing over to Brooklyn, we visited the beautiful 
Greenwood, that charming home of the dead. 

"Five years ago I left New York, its surging populace 
rattling and roaring along its stormy streets, and, return- 
ing, the stunning refrain is taken up in my ears at the 
point where it seemed to cease ; yet all this time the 
multitudinous tramp of hurried humanity has unceas- 
ingly continued. I seem to see the same faces, eager 
and dyspeptic, the same equipages, the same walking 
advertisements of female folly and extravagance, the 
same beggars, with the same old hats and shrill organs. 
Yet they change continually. The broker who blows ofi" 
the top of his head, or drops helplessly paralyzed, or 
retreats bankrupt and broken-hearted into obscurity, 
is succeeded by another to run a like career. So it 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE. 451 

is with the merchant and mechanic, the lawyer and the 
the doctor. As one drops out another of like sort occu- 
pies his place and runs the same course. The fierce com- 
petition, stimulated by want of bread and greed for mon- 
ey, seems to mold humanity into certain shapes that 
remain the same. Everything about us indicates the 
great city ; Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore are vil- 
lages in comparison. This is not the hub — it is the 
heart, and through it pulsates our world. Stand there 
two hours and you will meet every one you know in 
New York. Stand there a year, and you will meet 
every one you know in the United States. There is no 
desire, however wicked, no wish, however impure, that 
cannot be gratified within the corporate limits of this 
sinful place. Its lost women would make a populous 
town, if collected to themselves. Its thieves, pickpock- 
ets and burglars would form an army, if recruited and 
organized for that purpose. Its luxury rivals that of 
Europe, and its poverty swings down to the lowest 
depths of human degradation ; but in its romance of 
real life New York stands pre-eminent. The strangest 
characters come to the surface, play their eccentric parts, 
and disappear to give place to others equally strange. 
The millionaire of to-day, who inhabits a palace, was an 
unknown adventurer yesterday, and may be a beggar 
to-morrow. There are miles on miles of the most gor- 
geous habitations, in which the average duration of 
residence does not exceed five years. They come and 
bloom, and flourish, and disappear in such quick suc- 
cession that one is dazzled by the glare and light of its 
splendor." 

During my sojourn in the empire city of America I 



452 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

often tliouglit of those beautiful lines written by "Miss 
Barrett" which run as follows : — 



I dwell amid the city, 

And hear the flow of souls ! 

I do not hear the several contraries 

I do not hear the separate tone that rolls 

In art or speech. 

For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly, 

I hear the confluence and sum of each, 

And that is melancholy ! — 

Thy voice is a complaint, O crowned city. 

The blue sky covering thee, like God's great pity. 

How many were the suggestive thoughts that filled 
my mind, and awakened every feeling of delight, of sad- 
ness, as I gazed into the cheerful, and into the pallid 
faces of the people who thronged this famous city. 
Looking calmly Upon the world, I saw its nothingness, 
its cold uncheering sympathy. And I thought of the 
duties that all are bound by Christian love and charity 
to perform, the good we can do for each other, have we 
a desire. My thoughts wandered into the palaces of the 
rich, where I saw discontent, luxury, and extravagance. 
Looking into the humble homes of the poor, I realizea 
theu* miseries, misfortunes, poverty. Have you ever 
thought of the poor, the helpless widows, the sick, and 
those whose hearts are faint and weaiy over misfortunes 
that never cease ; of the homeless, the friendless 'i God 
bless them as do we. If not, think of them to-night ; 
think of them in the days of prosperity, in the hour of 
success ; when we hear the stonii beating upon our hab- 
itations, and yet are securely sheltered, warmed, and 



OR, JOSIE, THE IIEKOITs^E OF FLORENCE. 453 

abundantly fed, let us remember them. How little do 
we know of the miseries that continually surround us. 
We consider our own position a hard one ; we lament 
over our trials and troubles ; we believe all are happier 
than we. Yet there are millions of people who suffer 
greater afflictions ; whose labors, anxieties, perplexities, 
and discouragements are so numerous as to almost 
seem endless ; whose hearts are stabbed with new sor- 
rows every day, and who suffer only as the God of 
pity understands. Besides this, think of all the people 
who suffer perpetually, but in silence. There is much 
pain that is quite noiseless, and vibrations that make 
human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of 
hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that 
stab and raise no cry of murder ; robberies that leave 
man or woman forever beggered of peace and joy, yet 
kept secret by the sufferer — committed to no sound ex- 
cept that of low moans in the night — seen in no writing 
except that made on the face by the slow months of sup- 
pressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an 
inherited sorrow that has marred a life, has been 
breathed into no human ear, but borne in silence. If 
we are rich we are overburdened with responsibility, 
anxiety and care. If we are poor, our poverty is our 
misery. What we all lack is content. No matter 
what may betide us in life, we should live for a 
purpose, and seek to be happy. If sometimes we 
stumble, and hurt ourselves as we fall upon the rough 
stepping stones on our journey of life, let us not give 
up, but remember that God protects ,the brave. He 
will not forsake us, even though the world and our 
friends cease to help or recognize us. All ships that 
are wrecked at sea do not perish, some reach port in 



454 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

safety, and when tlieii' injuries are repaired, appear 
again more powerful than ever. So it is with us ; 
every storm of misery ; every misfortune ; every hard- 
ship that we endure, should serve to strengthen our 
purpose, and give new life and hope to all our under- 
takings. 

If people could but see or know the one hundredth 
part of the crimes that are committed, the dissipation 
that exists, the unhappy homes, and the wives and 
mothers who suffer as a consequence of these miseries, 
how many would rejoice and be happy. How much 
there is to be learned in the study of human nature, its 
beauty, its mysteries. How eloquent, how sad. Read 
well the book of every day life wherein our every day' s 
doings are recorded. Turn over its numberless pages 
and read their headings, dissipation, drunkenness, men 
ruined by bad associates, too much society and amuse- 
ment, fondness of the world, the result. Turn over 
more pages, look into those gambling hells, those places 
of crime, the very name of which makes one shudder ; 
look into those ball-alleys, those billiard rooms, and a 
thousand other places of a similar character, where tens 
of thousands of our young men are going to destruc- 
tion, wearing away their lives as though they were noth- 
ing, disregarding all advice, and lowering themselves 
deeper and deeper into an infamous cesspool of dissi- 
pation and misery, with a rapidity that begars dis- 
cription. Look further on still, turn a few pages 
more, and see how an unthinking world drives 
madly along ; rioting, impovershing, ruining, drinking 
up their substance, filling the land with crime, sorrow 
and wretchedness. Yet so it is. What is the result ? 
It is summed up in blighted hopes, saddened homes, 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 456 

ruined fortunes, broken hearts, crime, debauchery, deg- 
radation, dishonor and finally death ! How little do we 
know the world ourselves. How many good wives sit 
up with sleepless eyes, with anxious hopes and fears, 
until twelve o'clock at night, yes, until one and two in 
the morning, wearily waiting for the return of their 
husbands from some pretended business? Who can 
conjecture the thoughts of such a wife, the pain she en- 
dures? The hours pass by slowly. As morning ap- 
proaches, how she counts every minute, every second, 
while her brave heart grows sick and despondent. 
Where is her husband ? What is his pretended busi- 
ness ? It certainly cannot be legitimate if it keeps him 
so late. Let us see. Where is he ? Ah, we find him 
in a saloon, perhaps in a worse place. 

"Husbands should sympathize with their wives in 
all their cares and labors. Men are apt to forget, in the 
perplexities and annoyances of business, that home 
cares are also annoying, and try the patience and the 
strength of their wives. They come home expecting 
sympathy and attention, but are too apt to have none 
to give. A single kindly word or look that tells his 
thought of her and her troubles, would lift half the 
weight of care from her heart. Men should show their 
love for their wives in constant attentions in their man- 
ner of treating them, and in the thousand and one tri- 
fling offices of affection which may be hardly noticeable, 
but which make all the difference between a sad and 
undefined longing, and cheery, happy existence. 
Above all, men should beware of treating their wives 
with rudeness and incivility, as if they were the only 
persons not entitled to their consideration and respect. 
They should think of their sensitive feelings and their 



456 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

need of sympathy, and "never let the fire of love go 
out, or cease to show that the flame is burning with un- 
abated fervor." If there is any misunderstanding, or 
the slightest illfeeling existing between you and your 
wife, which feeling sometimes animates you to do 
HTong, or to dissipate, become reconciled at once. We 
must forgive, as we expect to be forgiven. We must 
overlook other' s faults as we expect others to overlook 
ours. None of us are perfect. This very night, before 
you lay your head upon your pillow to seek the God 
dess sleep, settle all disputes, acknowledge your wrong 
doings, your neglect, your unkindness, and endeavor to 
do better for the futui-e. Let your hearts be united, 
never again to be torn asunder. If you love your wite, 
love her more ; be kind to her, and sh^ will be kind in 
return. He who has a good wife is truly blessed, for 
the value of such a woman cannot be estimated. 

A very eloquent and well known divine writes thus : 
"A good wife is Heaven's last, best gift to man — his 
angel and minister of graces innumerable — his gem of 
many virtues — his casket of jewels. Her voice is sweet 
music — her smiles his brightest day — her kiss the 
guardian of his innocence — her arms the pale of his 
safety, the balm of his health, the balsam of his life — 
her industry his surest wealth — her economy his safest 
steward — her lips his most faithful counsellors — her 
bosom the safest pillow of his cares — and her prayers 
the ablest advocate of Heaven's blessing on his head." 

" And say, without our hopes, without our fears, 
Without the home that plighted love endears, 
Without the smile from partial beauty won, 
Oh ! what were man ? — a world wfthout a sun. 



OR, JOSIE, THE lIEPvOINE OF FLORENCE, 457 

The world was sad ! — the garden was a wild ! 
And man, the hermit, sigh'd — till woman smiled.' 

As yet, we have addressed ourselves directly but 
little to our young folks. To them we would like to say 
much, but cannot, it is not our theme. What a great 
difference there is in young ladies— in young men. 
How true — how false. How we wish they were all 
good, as they might be. If young ladies only knew 
the power of their influence, and would use their influ- 
ence rightly, they could accomplish wonders. How 
many there are who would heed their advice, when they 
would scoff at the advice of others. How many young 
men they might save, wlio are going headlong to ruin 
through dissipation, by a single word of cheer and con- 
solation. Never befere has there been such an extensive 
field for the display of womanly interest and affection. 
Never before was the co-operation of woman so much 
needed in the reform of our young men and society, as 
to-day. To procrastinate means defeat. Unfurl your 
banners, then, and commence the work. Let your 
weapons be those which save ; not those which destroy. 
Let them be words of advice and sympathy, polished 
with a true woman' s charity and love. Encourage truth, 
industry and integrity. Open your doors to those who 
would do better, who would be good. Let intelligence 
and virtue be the key to society, in place of wealth. 
And in performing this duty, which God designed you 
should perfoiTti, you will win the love and respect of all 
mankind. Yes, many are the mothers and fathers who 
will bless you for the redemption of their sons, and they 
themselves will bear you in remembrance long after you 
are dead, or they themselves have been carried to the 

58 



458 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; 

grave. As soon as a young man falls into error, or 
intemperance, society says, " Down with him !" 
The world says, "Down with him!" This is not 
in accordance with the spirit of Christianity, but 
contrary to the teachings of Christ, of humanity. If 
these be our principles, religion and all its teachings is 
an infamous farce. We might just as well close our 
church doors against all sinners ; the principle is the 
same. We were created to love and help one another ; 
to take care of the weak and helpless ; to advise those 
who stray from the path of virtue and righteousness, 
and through our own good example, persuade them to 
return to the fold of Christ. We are commanded to 
assist the poor, not the rich. We are told to preach to 
the sinners, not to the just. If we offer our sympathy 
to a drowning man, he derives no benefit ; if we lend 
him a hand, we may save him. So it is with our young 
men. We should not shut our doors against them for 
the simple reason that they are becoming dissipated ; 
neither should we shun their society, but rather seek it, 
for in doing so we make them better. We should open 
our doors — our hearts. We should speak kindly to 
them — tell them how, if they continue the course they 
are pursuing, they will lose the respect of their friends, 
society, and all who love good behavior and true manli- 
ness. Young men would love you all the more — would 
oftener seek your company — your advice — were you 
to speak to them in this generous, womanly manner, and 
persuade them to study self-promotion, in place of self- 
destruction. Young ladies should also be charitable. 
They should visit the sick and the poor. We know 
that there are many of you who do, yet there are many 
who have means and much time, and do not. This 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 459 

should be your first duty. If you would win the esteem 
and affection — the respect and love of our nobler young 
men, you must do it by the performance of good deeds 
— not by your extravagance in dress. " Female loveli- 
ness never appears to so good advantage as when set 
off by simplicity of dress. A vulgar taste is not to 
be disguised by gold or diamonds. The absence of 
a true taste, and real refinement and delicacy, can- 
not be compensated for by the possession of the most 
princely fortune. Mind measures gold, but gold cannot 
measure mind. Dress shows character, and through it 
can be read the feeble or stable mind. A modest woman 
will dress modestly ; and a really refined and intellectual 
woman will bear the marks of careful selection and fault- 
less taste." Young ladies deceive themselves greatly 
when they think that by the splendor of their dress, 
the glittering of diamond rings on delicate fingers, 
their aristocratic manners, pleasant smiles and coquetish 
ways, in which there is nothing but nonsense and decep- 
tion to be found, they will win the hearts of men. This 
is a great mistake, ana no greater was ever made. Men 
of deep thought and culture look higher and for some- 
thing more than mere dress and pretty faces. If women 
were to spend less time with such things, and more time 
in improving their minds, their conduct would, we are 
sure, be oftener applauded. If you wish to be honored, 
respected and loved by all, be virtuous, plain but taste- 
ful in your dress, careful in your language and pleasing 
in your conversation ; be good, and let all your deeds 
be accompanied by charity. Perform all your duties, no 
matter how simple, in a pleasant manner, and show due 
respect to all to whom respect is due ; be social, kind. 



460 souTHEiiisr prisons ; 

generous, loving, and we promise yon that the truly 
wise and great man will love to linger in your presence. 

We will now ojffer a few suggestions, and a few words 
of kind advice to our young men. We do it because 
we know they will appreciate our purpose, and listen to 
what we have to say. Above all others we think of them 
the most. We could do anything for a young man who 
will try to do something for himself. The writer is also 
a young man, one who left home at the tender age of 
twelve, to face the stormy battle of life ; to combat with 
its discouragements, its labors ; to stand up against the 
pitiless and destructive waves of misfortune ; to face, 
with true manly courage, its difficulties, its cold want of 
sympathy ; without a dollar, without a friend but Him 
who is the friend of all. Inexperienced, unaccustomed 
to any kind of labor ; knowing little about the world or 
the hardships he was about to undergo, he launched 
his frail bark upon the ocean of life ; with a good com- 
pass, he steered his own ship, and though thousands of 
others upon the same voyage ran ashore, or capsized 
upon the fated rocks of those deep and dangerous 
waters, he has weathered every storm. In the gloomy 
hour of despair, when the whole face of nature wore its 
shroud of darkness, and it seemed to him as if the sun 
would never shine again, he stood firmly at Ijis post, and 
in the performance of his duty, overcame every obstacle. 

The first thing that a young man should do after he 
has had the necessary experience, and feels himself 
capable, is to choose a business. A man without an 
object in life is nobody. He might well be compared 
with the laborer who has no trade ; who, when he gets 
out of a situation, is glad to work at anything, or for 
any one that wiU give him emj)loyment. There is a class 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 461 

of this kind of young men in all large cities, no matter 
where you go. They have just got education enough to 
spoil them. Tliey think they know everything, and 
know little or nothing. They are either too proud or too 
lazy to work, and never make a dollar but they spend 
it as soon as they get it. They are usually fond of 
amusements and society ; they are over-fond of dress, 
and when w^ell known, are generally fast and dissipated. 
These young men may possibly earn a living ; but that 
is all. They never become popular, or get into business 
for themselves. If we wish to be successful in our busi- 
ness career, we must be wise, and select a vocation early. 
We must find out what we are the best fitted for ; whether 
it be this or that peculiar kind of business. A man 
may be capable of doing a little of everything, and yet 
thoroughly competent in nothing. Take your choice of 
one from all the different kinds of trades and professions ; 
know that you like it, and then push on Go to it with 
the express determination to remain in it, to follow it for 
life. Some day you will excel ; you cannot help it ; and 
when that day comes, if not before, you will be your own 
master. Take, for instance, the merchants of our city, 
the lawyer, doctor, the mechanic, the artist ; any of them 
or all of them, who are doing business for themselves, 
or stand at the head of their jM-ofession, to-day. Exam- 
ine their histories, and learn a lesson and remember it. 
Here is a dry-goods merchant ; years ago he was a poor 
clerk ; he worked hard and late ; he took an interest in 
his employers business, and as a consequence, his 
employer took an interest in him. He was sober, honest 
and industrious ; little by little he advanced himself,— 
climbed up. After a while he was given an interest in 
the concern, and finally became its sole proprietor. 



462 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

Take the wealthy mechanics of to-day. How did they 
get up in the world ? By honest toil. They served their 
time as apprentices, and for long years they worked in 
the shop, over fire and smoke, and by their industry 
and economy, together with their ability, were enabled 
to start for themselves, and have thus amassed the wealth 
they now possess. The successful man of a profession 
lived in his library, and while others were sleeping, he 
toiled with his brain over books and documents. So it 
is with every man in business, no matter what that busi- 
ness may be ; if he attains to anything ; if he would 
rise above the common level of men, he must do it 
through his own energies ; he must plan, plod, save up 
whatever he makes, be wise in his expenditures, have a 
chosen vocation, and remain in it. 

Young men, as a general rule, do not use good judg- 
ment in the choosing of their vocation ; and we regret to 
say that they too often over-estimate their own ability, 
or fail to estimate it high enough. They all want to be 
lawyers, doctors, financiers, politicians, orators, editors, 
or something of the kind, no matter whether they are 
fitted for those professions or not. Anything to avoid 
labor. Remember, professional life of every kind, in this 
country is overdone. The man who succeeds in busi- 
ness, cares little about what people may say or think as 
to the vocation he chooses. If we do not have a fixed 
purpose in life ; something to live for, something upon 
which we can lavish all our energies, and bring into 
action every capability of the mind and human reason, 
we cannot expect to be successful. This one important 
step shapes our future. We must aspire to something, 
or we will always be nothing. We like to see a young 
man aspire high ; it is a good sign. Let your motto be. 



OR, JOSIE THE HEROINE OP FLOREITCE 463 

truth, honesty and industry. Whatever you undertake 
to do, do it, and with all your might. Be generous, 
good, social. Avoid dissipation, be careful of the com- 
pany you keep, and do not be hasty in making friends. 
Learn to be patient. Do not expect to accomplish won- 
ders in a moment. Never despair ; men's days cannot 
always be clouded and fruitless. Learn to appreciate 
the value of time, and never be idle a minute ; always 
try to keep busy. Read good books ; cultivate the 
mind at every opportunity. Read good solid literature ; 
history, works on art and science. Have the manly 
courage to resist the temptations of society. Have a 
mind of your own, and rule it. Let your amusements 
be few and rational. Travel all you can ; learn to be 
observing. Wherever you go, never neglect visiting 
those sepulchres of learning, the great libraries of our 
country. Keep thoroughly informed upon all the topics 
of the day. Learn to speak correctly, and, if possible, 
converse fluently. Attend to your business closely. 
Work hard, and, if necessary, late. Learn to save what 
you make, and make something from what you save. 
And above all, choose a vocation and remain in it. 
*' Step among your neighbors, reader," says an able 
writer, " and see whether those among them who have 
got along smoothly, and accumulated property, and 
gained a good name, have not been men who bent them- 
selves to one single branch of business ; who brought 
all their forces to bear upon one point, and built on one 
foundation. It must be so. Go out in the spring, when 
the sun is yet far distant, and you can scarcely feel the 
influence of its beams, scattered as they are over the 
wide face of creation ; but collect those beams to a focuSj 
and they .kindle up a flame in an instant. So the man 



464 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

that squanders his talents and his strength in many- 
things, will fail to make an impression with either ; but 
let him draw them to a point, let him strike at a single 
object, and it will yield before him." "The success 
and happiness of every individual," says another writer, 
' ' depend much upon the degree to which he recognizes 
this great truth, and earnestly acts upon it. He who 
perceives the true value and dignity of labor, will also 
see, that to extract its full benefits, he must choose Ms 
work wisely and perform it worthily. Although every 
species of rightful labor is honorable, yet that only will 
reflect honor on the individual for which he is fitted." 
Above all, we must use self- exertion, if we would wish 
to be anything in life. "The value of self-exertion 
appears nowhere more decidedly than when we follow 
the track of those who became eminent without having 
the advantage ground of instruction from which to start. 
There is scarcely anything more gratifying to the mind 
than the well- written life of a person whose intellectual 
struggles through every difiiculty, arising from want of 
books, want of examples, want of patronage, and who, 
notwithstanding these impediments, continues to struggle 
till he triumphantly emerges into notice. Art surrenders 
some of her choicest secrets, science smiles, and fame, or 
emolument, or both, place the successful experimenter 
far above common names. Not scantily are the niches 
in the temple of Fame filled wdth lasting memorials of 
persons thus claiming theii* well-deserved honors — 
persons who have been the boast and blessing of their 
day, by dint of unsubdued patience, fortitude and viva- 
cious genius. Every department of art and science is 
filled with them. Their stimulating examples are on 
every hand. From the lowest rank of life they start 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 465 

forth. They break all the shackles of ignorance. The 
repulsive frowns of the crowd cannot daunt them. The 
fears of the timorous they do not listen to. Determined 
to excel, they do excel. Their native energies urge 
them forward in the honorable career, till success, more 
or less complete, crowns their glowing efforts. 

The maxim that "every man is the architect of his 
own fortune," has been strikingly verified and illustrated 
in the history of American statesmen. Very few of the 
fathers of our republic were the inheritors of distinction. 
Washington was almost the only gentleman by right of 
birth in all that astonishing company of thinkers and 
actors. Two or three Virginians, John Jay, of New 
York, and half a dozen meaner men from other provinces, 
were exceptions. But Franklin was a printer's boy; 
Sherman a shoemaker ; Knox was a book-binder ; Green 
a blacksmith ; John Adams and Marshall, the sons of 
poor farmers ; and Hamilton, the most subtle, fiery and 
electrical, but at the same time the most composed and 
orderly genius of all, excepting the unapproachable 
chief, was of as humble parentage as the rest, and him- 
self at the beginning a clerk or a shopkeeper. And if 
we come down to a later period, Daniel Webster was the 
son of a farmer, and was rescued from the occupation of 
a drover only by the shrewd observation of Christopher 
Gk)re, whom he called upon for advice respecting a 
difficulty arising from the sale of a pair of steers ; and 
John C. Calhoun was the son of a tanner and currier ; 
the father of Henry Clay belonged to the poorer class of 
Baptist ministers ; Martin Van Buren, during the fitful 
leisure of the day, gathered pine knots to light his eve- 
ning studies ; Thomas Corwin was a wagoner ; Silas 

Wright, by heritage a machinist. In later times we have 
59 



466 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

had Lincoln of ttie flat-boat ; Johnson, the tailor ; Grant, 
the tanner ; Wilson, the shoemaker' s apprentice ; and 
many others among our statesmen who received the 
applause and reverence of mankind, passed their earlier 
years at what, in other countries, would be almost 
impassable distances from the eminence which they now 
enjoy. 

In the old monarchies the question is. What is your 
pedigree? or, Who were your progenitors? Here, in 
our republic, the question is. What have you done ? 
what are you doing ? at what do you aim ? To do, to 
grow, to improve, and become all that God intended us 
is our privilege, our right and our duty." " God helps 
those who help themselves." 

We would like to say much more to our young men, 
but cannot ; we have already taken too much space for 
this purpose, and must now conclude ; but before we 
close the subject, let us say to you, in the eloquent lan- 
guage of an able writer : 

" Work. Strengthen your moral and intellectual fac- 
xdties as you would strengthen your muscles by vigor- 
ous exercise. Learn to conquer circumstances ; you 
are then independent of fortune. The men of athletic 
minds, who have left their marks on the years in which 
they lived, were all trained in a rough school. They 
did not mount their high positions by the help of lever- 
age. They leaped into chasms, grappled with opposing 
rocks, avoided avalanches, and when the goal was reach- 
ed, felt that but for the toil that had strengthened them 
as they strove, it could never have been attained. Rely 
on your own strength of body and soul. Take for your 
motto, self-reliance, honesty and industry; for your star, 
faith, perseverence and pluck ; and inscribe on your 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 467 

banner, *'be just and fear>ot." Don't take to mucli 
advice ; keep at the helm and steer your own ship. 
Strike out. Think well of yourself. Fire above the 
mark you intend to hit. Assume your position. Don't 
practice excessive humility— you can't get above your 
level; vvT.tor don't runup-hill; put potatoes in a cart 
over a rough road, and the small ones will go to the 
bottom. Energy, invincible determination, with a right 
motive, are the levers that rule the world." 

" If, in years of fierce endeavor, 
All your efforts have been vain, 
Struggle on, believing ever 
That the victory you will gain. 
Are you friendless? You can conquer 
Foes without and foes within. 
What are trials, pain and hunger, 
When there is a prize to win ? 
Noble natures prove ascendant 
In the world's ignoble strife, 
And true courage is descendant 
Of the dauntless souls in life. 
On life's changeful scene of action. 
Though defeat may ofb appear. 
Laurels, prizes, wealth and station, 
Are for those who persevere." 

If we wish to pass the ordeal of honor, friendship, 
virtue, we must be open without levity, generous with- 
out waste, secret without craft, humble without mean- 
ness, bold without insolence, cautious without anxiety, 
regular, yet not formal, mild, yet, not timid, and firm, 
yet not tyrannical. The bitter word is not the strongest 
word. The greatest vigor of thought or act is not vio- 



468 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

lent ; it breaks no law of courtesy. The lightning is 
silent and playful. It is the rent and wounded air that 
wails in thunder. 

But, to close this long digression and return to the 
great metropolis. 

As a whole, the impression which New York left up- 
on me was that of a gigantic trading mart, a city of vast 
wealth, the commercial emporium of the land, its streets 
lined with palaces, its suburbs filled with beautiful 
parks and places of resort ; but as being the most cor- 
rupt, the most godless, the most fruitful in poverty and 
wickedness, of all the great cities which I have ever 
visited; 

March 1st I went to Philadelphia. I found in it a 
marked contrast to New York, though it has probably, 
fully two-thirds of the population ot the latter city. It 
has great extent, peopel, being by no means so densely 
crowded together as in New York. Beautiful and broad 
avenues, innumerable manufactures, and hosts of 
delightful suburban villages. Yet, despite the great 
amount of business which is unquestionably done there, 
it is not an emporium, as is its great rival. Notwith- 
standing it possesses an outlet to the sea, it has compa- 
ratively no shipping. Its interests are almost altogether 
of a manufacturing and interior order. Compared to 
New York, it is dull, slow, lifeless; and yet it is a 
pleasant city, one fair to look upon, and one in which 
it miist be pleasant to have a home. 

March 4th I went to Baltimore, thence to Washington, 
from which point I was sent to Columbus, O., again, 
and stationed at the Parole Camp, mentioned already. 
March 25th I started once more for my regiment, arrived 
at Washington March 28th, and arrived at City Point, on 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 469 

the James, April 1st, and April 7tli I was once more with 
my old regiment, the Seventeenth, then encamped on 
Beasley' s Farm, near Petersburg, for a time performing 
duty as provost guard. The first one who welcomed 
me upon my arrival was Col. F. W. Swift, formerly 
Captain of my Company, but who had been promoted, 
during my absence, to the position of Lieut. Colonel, 
for his bravery, and at the time was in full command of 
the regiment. He also had been a prisoner of war, for 
three months, and was confined at Macon, Ga., and 
Charleston, S. C. To say the least of him, as an officer 
he had no superior of his rank ; first at his duty ; first 
in battle ; and forever watching over and caring for 
the welfare of his men. I was at once informed that I 
had been promoted to Sergeant, and I reluctantly 
assumed that duty. After a hearty shaking of hands 
with my old comrades, and a pleasant chat over the 
past, I joined a foraging party, taking charge of the 
squad ; and I can only say, that after our return, I 
could vouch for the remarks of one of our sqtiad, that 
there was not a hen-roost nor a milk-house within twelve 
miles of our camp that we had not honored with a visit. 
But, alas! how things had changed during my 
absence. When we left the city of Detroit, for the 
battle-field, we numbered nearly a thousand men ; now 
scarcely one hundred of the old members of the regi- 
ment could be found. Some had died of disease ; while 
the greater portion had been struck down amidst the 
storm of battle. Among the few who remained, however, 
I found dear friends, not the least of whom was William 
Winegar, who resides at Grass Lake, Mich., and who 
was Second Lieutenant in my Company at the time of 
my capture. During my absence, however, he was 



470 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

promoted to be First Lieutenant, and subsequently to 
the position of Captain, He was a brave and efficient 
officer, and very much, beloved by Ms Mends. 

ARMY LIFE. 

Army life, in many respects is a delightful life, 
though hard and hazardous ; and to the young man 
Yfho loves travel and excitement, as well as the romantic 
and adventurous, it furnishes a broad field in which to 
gratify his ambition. There is a dark and a bright side, 
however, to army life, and though the men invariably 
tried to appear contented and happy, thoir hearts were 
often heavy and their thoughts sad. Yet there is some- 
thing fascinating about it. The changable scenes ; the 
constant motion ; in this Stato to-day, in another 
to-morrow ; facing the enemy one minute, the next 
participating in never-to-be-forgotten pleasures and 
amusements ; traveling by steamboat to-day, by cars 
to-morrow ; the next day on foot, or perhaps on horse- 
back; last night quartered in barracks, to-night in 
small tents ; on the Ohio river yesterday, now on the 
Mississippi ; heavy marching orders last week, six days' 
rations and a kit weighing sixty pounds to carry ; to-day 
light marching orders, carrying nothing with us but gun 
and cartridges, and traveling thirty-five miles ; on camp 
guard to-day, to-morrow night on picket. Such is a 
soldier's life. Then come the terrific scenes of the 
battle-field, the hospital and the camp. The camp 
scenes are particularly affecting and amusing. Here 
you see a squad of men playing cards, another over 
there playing chess, and still another at a game of 
checkers. Then there comes the rousing out early in 
the morning, the day' s march ; perhaDS we have fought 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOIKE OF FLORENCE. 471 

a battle and won the good fight ; it makes no difference, 
the shades of night bring us rest, and we are happy. 
How, when night does come, the boys crowd around 
the camp-fires, or under the shady trees, and relate 
anecdotes, stories, tales of old, and sing songs, till they 
hear the stern order, "put out your lights," then retire. 
What a sight it is to view a division or corps drilling ; 
the glittering of their bayonets and swords, the clash of 
arms, the galloping of aids-de-camp, together with the 
shining of thousands of ornaments, the flags of various 
States, etc. These truly compose a beautiful spectacle. 
In the army there is no end to picturesque scenes and 
exciting moments. Look upon the soldiers' camp from 
a distance ; how delightful ! Right and left, for miles, 
perhaps as far as the eye can see, the ground is covered 
with little white tents, each of which contains one or 
more soldiers. How I remember the imposing appear- 
ance of Burnside's corps, at Pleasant Valley, Md. I 
recall how it made my heart thrill to look upon that 
camp of veterans. The stillness and total seclusion of 
the scene ; the beauty of those stupendous mountains, 
the gloomy grandeur of the woods, togetker with that 
monument of glory so nobly won by those brave soldiers, 
diff'used a sacred enthusiasm over the mind, and awa- 
kened sensations truly sublime. Then there was the 
general review of Gen. McClellan's army of eighty 
thousand men, previous to the Peninsular Campaign ; 
the grand review in Washington, at the closing of the 
war, and of which 1 shall speak more fully hereafter. 
These were sights the grandeur of which will probably 
never be seen again or equaled among us perhaps in all 
time to come, and those who witnessed them will carry 
the remembrance of these scenes to their graves. Among 



472 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

all the varied scenes which army life presents, too, T 
have never found the masses of the private soldiers 
unequal to the emergency. Exceptional cases of cow- 
ardice or inefficiency have been found among the men, 
as among the officers ; but as a rule, the men never 
shirked or refused to meet any danger to which they 
were led. The praises of individual leaders, and of the 
officers of the army at large, have been appropriately 
sung, but the deeds of the rank and file of the Union 
army have been but faintly portrayed. To the soldiers 
of the war individual honors can only be paid by friends 
to whom their gallantry was personally known ; but 
the great armies of the North, and every man, in what- 
ever rank, who in them held an honorable position and 
discharged his duty, will never be forgotten by the 
nation. Their heroism, their devotion to duty, and their 
self-sacrifice, will ever be remembered with affection and 
their deeds will always be known as the greatest of those 
which have glorified the history of the country. 

During the period while I was a soldier in the army ; 
that is, during the one year that I served as a private 
soldier in the Sixteenth Michigan Infantry, at the begin- 
ning of the war, and the three years that I served in the 
Seventeenth, I traveled over twenty -five different States, 
and had the pleasure of visiting forty-six of the largest 
cities in America. When I look back and think of those 
long, weary marches, those moments of despair, those 
days of toil and bloodshed ; when I review the pleasant 
scenes of the evening camp-fires — the glorious battles 
— the furious charges of infantry and cavalry ; the 
disasters and the victories of the past ; the scenes of 
travel, — the lakes, rivers and rivulets; the mountain 
scenery, with its deep, dark recesses, its mossy rocks 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 473 

and gorgeous crystal springs of the most dolightful 
water ; when I look back upon all those mysteries of 
the days gone-by ; the sufferings, perils, and the delight- 
ful pleasures and adventures which accompanied them, 
it seems like a dream. Yet sometimes, when I recall 
them to memory and think them over, the old spirit 
which animated me then returns, and I am forced to 
look back upon them, not only with regret, but with 
profound admiration. My experience, during those 
four long years of service in the army, to me is beyond 
value. Of human nature I learned much, while I expe- 
rienced and witnessed no little share of life in all its 
various forms. In a word, I saw something of the 
world, its follies, its' prodigality, its beauty and its 
glowing grandeur. 

THE POETRY AND REALITY OF WAR. 

"Amid the general routine of camp life," says W. 
W. Lyle, "as well as amid the exciting and perilous 
scenes of the battle-field, there is much to interest and 
instruct. There is no scene, however dark ; no duty, 
however perilous ; no circumstances, however doubtful 
or ominous, and no movement, however complicated or 
mysterious, but to the reflecting mind is significant and 
impressive. 

The poetry of war ! exclaims some one, in surprise. 

Has war anything poetic about it ? Yes, it has ; but, 

as poetry is essentially ideal, not actual, so the poetry 

of war is war only in idea. There is a great difference 

between the ideal and the actual in everything ; and 

that which is simply ideal is one thing, and that which 

is actual is entirely another. Ideal wars, as presented 

to us on the pages of the historian, the canvas of the 
60 



474 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

painter, or the dashing, brilliant, spirited letters of "spe- 
cial correspondents,'' are \^astly diiferent from actual 
war, as exhibited on the battle-field and in the hospital. 
Ideal war has tinsel and plumes, waving banners and 
hashing swords, wreaths of flowers and silver medals, 
and the plaudits of brave men and the smiles of beau- 
tiful women. Actual war has hunger and thirst, cold 
and weariness. It has the saber- stroke deep in the 
quivering flesh, and the bayonet-thrust in the beating 
heart. It has the bursting shell and the hissing shots 
crashing and tearing through solid ranks of living men, 
like the furious storm-blast in the forest. It has ghastly 
wounds, and " garments rolled in blood," the agonizing 
cry of the wounded, and the stifled moan of the dying. 
It has the crowded hospital, with wearisome days and 
still more wearisome nights for the sick and wounded, 
and where oftentimes — as after battle — every look 
seems to be agony, and every word a suppressed groan, 
a petition for help, or a cry for mercy. It has the 
tearful eyes of those who look wistfully for absent ones 
who will return no more, and it has the sad, sad sigh of 
burdened, broken hearts. It has Rachels weeping for 
their children, and refusing to be comforted because 
they are not. It has lonely widows and desolate 
orphans. And whosoever may causelessly and wickedly 
initiate war, has the execration of all the truly good, 
and the curse of a righteous Grod. 

Even when waged for a good cause — when it is for 
the defence of truth and righteousness, and is absolutely 
necessary to roll back the dark tide-wave of human 
oppression, and to destroy the foulest treason — war is 
still a terrible reality, as the bloody fields of a hundred 
hard-fought battles in the late rebellion has showed us. 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 475 

Glad though I was that our arms had been successful — 
that the wily, unscrupulous foe had been driven back 
— it was, nevertheless, with saddened heart that I g-azed 
upon the fearful scene of the rebellion. Time and 
again I felt to say, " O ! Prince of Peace ; come once 
more to our bleeding country, and say to the waves of 
strife, ' Be still !' 



15 5? 



"MY BROTHER! MY DEAR BROTHER!" 

Would that my pen con Id paint a picture seen on 
the held where our regiment had been engaged. While 
passing through a clump of laurel bushes, through 
which the skirmishers had been pushed forward, on the 
afternoon of the previous day, I found a member of our 
regiment leaning over the dead body of a brother 
soldier, while the tears were trickling over his cheeks. 
The countenance of the dead was calm and placid, as if 
stilled in sweet repose, or as if lighted up with the sun- 
shine of happy dreams. At first sight I could hardly 
believe that from that body, apparently just composed 
to sleep, the spark of life had fled forever. But so it 
was. A fragment of shell or a grapeshot had crashed 
through the side and back of liis head, tearing away a 
large portion of the brain,- but lea\ang the face untouched. 
And there leaned, or rather knelt, the brother of the 
fallen soldier, his hands pressed upon his face, and the 
hot tears trickling between his fingers — weeping as only 
brave men weep — and exclaiming, "My brother! O, 
my dear brother !" 

That scene was too sacred for intrusion. Words of 
common condolence would have jarred like a discord 
amid the subdued tones of anguish that burst from the 
lips of the living over the placid face of the dead. In 



476 SOUTHEKIf PRISONS ; 

its sublime pathos — its mingled bravery and affection, 
manly courage and womanly tenderness — it was one 
of those scenes that cannot be described, and which the 
beholder feels to be so sacred that he must needs draw 
a vail over it, lest it be profaned by the gaze of some 
thoughtless intruder. It reminded me of that scene 
once beheld on the gloomy mountains of Gilboa, the 
very thought of which wrung from the heart of the poet, 
warrior and king a requiem for the fallen hero, so 
inimitably touching and tender that it will find an echo 
in every generous, manly bosom till the end of time. 

THE GREAT MARCH, AND THE FALLING WATERS. 

Wearily they moved on, for the column had been 
marching from early morn ; along dusty roads, and 
literally in a dry and thirsty land, where there was no 
water. It was now a little past the hour of noon, and 
the blazing sun shone out fiercely in a cloudless sky. 
Many a strong-hearted soldier had fainted by the way- 
side — for his canteen was empty, his lips were dry and 
parched, and he was foot-sore and weary. "Water! 
Water!" was the great cry. "Water! anjrthing for 
water, and some shady place in which to rest !" More 
and more intensely did the sun shine out from the brazen 
sky, while the earth seemed to glow like a furnace. 
The dry, hot dust, flung up by thousands of feet, irrita- 
ted the throat and lungs, at the same time increasing 
the intolerable thirst under which all were suffering. 
Onward and still onward pressed the men, wearily and 
in pain, while the dust, increasing in heat and quantity, 
threatened to suffocate them at every step. Not a breath 
of air seemed to be stirring. The very leaves on the low 
shrubs, and the grass by the wayside, seemed to partakt 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 477 

of the general depression and suffering, and looked 
drooping and dying. Thus mile after mile of the weary 
way was traversed, and hour succeeded hour, as if each 
one was an age, and impressions of suffering and utter 
exhaustion were made so deeply on the minds of all, 
that time will never efface them. Suddenly we entered 
a narrow defile, through which the road wound, and, as 
if by magic, or like the creations of some fairy tale, a 
cool and fragrant breeze began to fan our cheeks. 

Presently the bugle, at the head of the column, 
sounded the welcome "Halt!" followed by the still 
more welcome "Rest!" On marching forv/ard a few 
paces, to where there was a general and frantic rush, I 
beheld a scene of such beauty and interest that I will 
never forget it till my dying day. We had entered a 
somewhat rocky pass, or gap, shaded on one side by 
hemlocks and cedars, "arrayed," literally, "in living 
green." On the left was a cool, shady glen, or grotto, 
scooped out deep in the mountainside — semicircular in 
form, or shaped somewhat like a horseshoe. The face 
of this grotto, composed of solid rock, rose like a massive 
wall, sixty or eighty feet high, and terminated in an 
evergreen crown of cedars and hemlocks. The wall 
itself was literally covered, from base to summit, with 
moss, and flowers, and evergreens, among which bloomed, 
in rich profusion, the beautiful wild honeysuckle, which 
hung in gay festoons from every crag and crevice. This 
was a grotto which the hand of man had never made, 
and those were flowers and shrubs which he had never 
planted. Ages ago, God himself had scooped it out of 
the solid rock, and clothed its granite walls with fragrant 
flowers, vvMch bloomed and faded, and bloomed again, 
as successive seasons rolled on, long before the foot of 



478 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

man had disturbed its quiet solitudes. But there were 
other charms, and, if possible, richer beauties still. At 
the further end of this lovely scene, and from an eleva- 
tion of perhaps thirty or forty feet, there issued a stream 
of cool, pure water, clear as crystal. As it descended 
from ' ' the cleft of the rock, ' ' which was nearly concealed 
by the overhanging flowers and shrubs, it divided into a 
number of little rivulets, which, in contrast with the 
green foliage around, looked like so many rills of liquid 
silver. At each one of these silvery "shady rills," 
stood, or kneeled, or lay, groups of weary, thirsty 
soldiers, eagerly quafl&ng the precious beverage, as if 
determined never to be thirsty again. 

A murmur of intense satisfaction and delight was 
heard on every side. It seemed as if all felt that that 
sublimely beautiful scene had in it more of heaven than 
earth ; and so strong, seemingly, were the feelings 
awakened in each bosom, that a kind of holy awe, a 
subdued, sacred admiration, filled each heart. O, how 
welcome to those exhausted, thirsty men, was that 
"shadow of a great rock in a weary land?" How 
refreshing those cool and sparkling waters, which gushed 
forth so full, free and abundant, from that flower-festooned 
rock ! And how impressive the scene, too, when those 
exhausted, thirsty soldiers reached forth with such 
feverish eagerness, to drink, and drink, and drink again ! 
How they bathed their hot, feverish brows, or stooped 
under the shelving rocks, and allowed the cooling waters 
to fall upon them ! How it seemed as if every leaf, and 
spray, and flower, were in sympathy with the gladsome 
scene, while the dancing sunbeams looked like rays of 
glory streaming down through the leafy openings above, 
and the songs of the birds, far away in the cool green- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 479 

wood, seemed to be the sweet melodies of the better 
land! 

REBEL BARBARITIES ON THE FIELD. 

From the first shot which the rebels fired at Fort 
Sumter, till the close of the war, the slaveholders' 
rebellion, in all its phases, has been but one continuous 
and fearful history of cowardly brutality and barbarism. 
War, at any time, in any country, and under any 
circumstances, is fearful, cruel, and unnatural. But 
fearful, cruel and unnatural as it undoubtedly is, even 
when conducted with some little regard to the claims of 
common humanity, how terrible must it be when vindic- 
tive cruelty, that should cause the cheeks of savages to 
blush with shame, is permitted to glut itself with insults, 
injuries, and even death, on a fallen and helpless foe ! 
When the atrocities perpetratf'd during the Sepoy rebel- 
lion in India were first made known, all Christendom 
stood aghast at the fearful tale of wholesale butchery 
and fiendish cruelty. It was supposed that such scenes 
had never been enacted in the history of the world, and, 
possibly, never would be again. But, horrible as the 
cruelties perpetrated by the frenzied Sepoys were, they 
have been completely eclipsed, a thousand times, by the 
conduct of the Rebels, since they began their causeless 
and wicked rebellion. With but few exceptions, they 
have never evinced the least feeling of honor or mercy — 
even of common humanity — towards those of the Union 
army that have fallen into their hands. 

After our army, under Thomas, and Sherman, and 
Hooker, had driven Bragg from Lookout and Mission 
Ridge, and sent him, reeling and discomfited, beyond 
the mountain fastnesses of northern Georgia, the Chick- 



480 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

amauga battle-field was tlien seen as a terrible record of 
worse than savage brutality. No full description of the 
revolting scenes which our soldiers then beheld has ever 
been given, and probably never will be. There are 
various reasons for this, one of which is, that there 
would be needless pain inflicted on the relatives of those 
noble heroes who fell in battle. 

Long after we had driven the Rebels back, and our 
men had been burying their dead comrades, who had 
been denied the common boon of humanity — a grave — 
the visitor would be startled by sights that would make 
the blood chill. Ghastly skeletons, lying exposed to 
the winds of heaven, bare and bleached, could be seen 
as fearful witnesses of Rebel inhumanity. Shallow graves 
were formed, from which protruded perhaps a bare, bald 
skull, or perhaps the bleached bones of hands and feet. 
A few handfuls of earth, thrown up carelessly, and 
partly washed away by the rains, was all that hid many 
of the dead from the light of day. There lay members 
of my regiment, the joy and pride of dear domestic 
circles, concerning whom I have had to maintain silence 
when dear parents or loving sisters spoke of them, 
because of the manner in which they were found on that 
horrid field. They were recognized by their comrades, 
and what was left of their mutilated remains, decently 
buried ; but they were recognized only from marks on 
their clothing, and the locality in which they fell. In 
several places we found bodies, or rather remains, lying 
between burned logs, part of which — an arm or leg, 
for instance — was calcined, as if subjected to intense 
heat, while other parts of the body were crisp and dry. 
It is firmly believed by all who saw those revolting 
scenes, that many of our wounded were burned alive, 



OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 481 

horrible as it may seem, for bodies were found partly 
consumed, where the contraction of the muscles, and 
the clenched fingers, seemed to indicate an attempt to 
grasp something, while the general appearance gave 
evidence of a violent struggle of some kind. In one 
place, the body of a Union soldier was found with both 
ears cut off, and in another, several bodies from which 
the heads had been removed. These had been set up 
on stakes and rails of the fences, or fastened on limbs of 
trees. A few, and but a few, graves of Union soldiers 
were marked. One, in which twelve had been buried, 
— a long trench — had a board inscribed: "Twelve 
Union soldiers," and another, probably an oGcer's, 
was adorned with a flat stone, on which was marked, 
"A damned Yankee nigger-thief lies here to rot and 
pollute our soil." 

But I forbear. The details are sickening. But one 
thing is certain, the wretches who could descend to such 
a depth of brutality, and be guilty of such aimless, 
wanton treatment of the helpless wounded or the harm- 
less dead, can never escape a fearful retribution, even 
in this world. 

Chickamauga ! Chickamauga ! the horrid Golgotha 
of Tennessee, where an accursed slaveholder' s treason 
slew the flower of the country, and refused the harmless 
dead the poor but common boon of humanity, will be 
remembered — yes, with a bitter and terrible remem- 
brance ! And when, at any time, wicked compromisers 
with wrong will ever dare to whisper of the rights of 
slaveholders, the veterans of Chickamauga and Mission 
Ridge, and all who are worthy their friendship, will 
fling in their teeth that terrible v^ord, Chickamauga ! 

and point to the mutilated remains and the ghastly 
61 



482 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

skeletons there, whicli the burning sun and the drench- 
ing rain had bleached — 

" Unknelled, uncoflSned, and unknown." 

Our children's children will reverently walk over the 
hallowed field of Chickamauga. They will note with 
interest its historic associations, and listen with thrilling 
interest to the tales of heroic bravery which perhaps 
some gray-haired sire may tell ; they will read, too, 
about the Fort Pillow butchery, and the brutalities at 
Plymouth ; they will listen to the horrid tales of Ander- 
sonville and Libby, where our noble patriot soldiers 
were systematically and deliberately tortured and 
starved to death ; they will read and study the long, 
fearful narratives of wanton cruelty, and unpitying, 
unrelenting hate, in comparison with which the blind, 
frenzied rage of the Indian Sepoys can scarcely be 
named. And, as they read or hear such tales, they will 
not only learn to love their country, but they will learn, 
too, to hate, with deepest hate, the iniquitous system of 
slavery, in the interest and spirit of which those scenes 
wore enacted. 

HOW WILL POSTERITY LOOK UPON THOSE MILITARY BURIAL 
PLACES ? 

There is another and brighter view to be taken of this 
otherwise dark and terrible scene. Those graves — the 
sight of which, so numerous, and looking so forsaken 
and desolate, have often awakened in my heart painfully 
sad emotions — are, nevertheless, the graves of heroes 
— the resting-places of Freedom' s noble defenders ! 
And, in the brighter and better days yet to come — for 
come they will — every one of these fields of graves, so 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 483 

sad, and solemn, and forsaken, now ; so brown and 
bare, like some desolate "Potter's Field," will be a 
Necropolis — a city of buried heroes. They will be 
adorned with the richest treasures of art, and the more 
beautiful but less imposing ornaments of nature. 
Coming generations will hold ' as sacred trusts these 
halls of death, where a nation' s heroes are sleeping ; 
and they will tell to their children, and children's chil- 
dren, the story of Freedom's struggle with Oppression, 
and how that, in the final victory, not only America, 
but the shores of every continent and island of earth, 
were blessed with the advancing tide- wave of love and 
liberty. 

To-day I visited the soldiers' grave-yard. I have 
often visited such before, andl noticed, here and there 
the plain, homely headboard — the invariable token of 
a soldier' s grave — it was several moments before I could 
realize the fact that the spot on which I stood was really 
a graveyard. And yet, that it was such a place, it was 
soon easy to discover ; for, amid the tangled briers and 
alders, and rank, yellow grass, there glimmered, here 
and there, a dilapidated tombstone, the lettering of 
which was covered with moss or green mold. And, 
even had no marble or freestone marked the lowly bed 
of many a peaceful slumberer, the grassy mounds — 
some but slightly elevated, others nearly level, and some 
so rounded as to show that the occupants had been but 
lately laid to rest — would have told the tale of buried, 
sleeping humanity. 

A grave is always to me an object of solemn interest, 
but I seldom read a tombstone. I can give no reason 
for this, save that the grave itself — whether covered 
with the green sod, adorned with summer flowers, or 



484 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

but recently made — is suggestive of interesting and 
important reflections. Imperceptibly my thoughts revert 
to the past, or glide onward to the future ; and scenes 
pertaining to life, death, immortality, the resurrection, 
and Day of Judgment loom up before me, and I think 
less on the age or name of the silent tenant of the tomb 
than 1 do of his relationship to those dread scenes. The 
lonely character of the graveyard, the neglect every- 
where visible, the tangled, withered grass, and rank 
weeds, and matted briers, and wild shrubs, which seemed 
to shelter the lowly graves and tottering tombstones 
from the profane foot of the thoughtless man, or the 
iron hoof of the war-horse, were all conducive to gloomy 
reflections. Perhaps, too, the dark clouds overhead, 
and the wet, yellow grass, and the dripping alder and 
brier bushes, which seemed to drip tears over neglected 
graves and the desecrated resting-place of a past gene- 
ration, deepened the gloomy feeling, and it seemed as 
if some hollow, sepulchral voice re-echoed the words of 
Gray' s dirge-like poem — 

" The Grave — dread thing ! 
Men shiver when thou'rt named. Nature, appalled, 
Shakes oflF her wonted firmness. Ah ! how dark 
Thy long-extended realms and rueful wastes ! 
Where naught but silence reigns, and night, dark night!" 

On returning to my quarters, I sat down by the rough 
board which served for table and writing-desk, and was 
soon absorbed in deep and saddened thought. The 
lonely, neglected graveyard seemed to be still before 
me. I could think of nothing else but that desolate 
place, and all the associations, both of peace and war, 
with which it was connected. I remembered the soldiers' 



OR, JOSIE THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 485 

humble graves there, and thought how appropriate 
would be the inscription over each sleeper : 

"A STRANGER HERE. LiTTLE KNOWN OF THE SLUMBERER BENEATH, 

BUT this: He loved his country, and in her service and 

FOR her defence HE DIED ! TrEAD LIGHTLY o'eR THE 

soldier's grave, for sacred TO THE NATION's 

HEART ARE THE RESTING-PLACES OF HER FALLEN HEROES-" 

I thought, too, of the manner in which many grave- 
yards are kept ; how the dead are forgotten, and their 
last resting-places neglected ; and that, instead of flowers 
or evergreens being planted over them, as tokens of 
affection and sweet emblems of the resurrection, the 
long, rank grass, and tangled weeds and briers, are 
permitted to grow in melancholy luxuriance. All this, 
thought I, shows that the dead are friendless and forgot- 
ten, and that the living are thoughtless and neglectful. 
The atheist, who writes the fearfully wicked words, 
' ' There is no God, ' ' and the infidel who inscribes the 
terribly dark and revolting sentence over the gateway 
to the tomb, "Death is an eternal sleep," may^ con- 
sistently with their unhallowed creed, forget the dead, 
as they insult the living, and they may tread profanely 
upon the silent chambers of mortality ; but it ill becomes 
the Christian so to act. Rather let believers in the pure, 
lovely, hope-inspiring doctrines of the Gospel not only 
keep the memory of departed friends ever green, but, in 
token of hope and love, let them beautify, with Nature' s 
own gems and jewels, the lowly resting-places of the 
sainted dead. Let them make the graveyard itself a 
scene of quiet and subdued loveliness. Yea, let them 
make it — like the place where the blessed Savior him- 



486 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; 

self was laid — "A garden, and in the garden a new 
sepulclier." 

Why should not the living desire that the resting- 
places of the dead should wear, as much as possible, a 
calm, peaceful look — a look of hope, a look of beauty ? 
Was it not from a childlike faith, and from childlike 
instincts of repose and beauty, as well as from a shrink- 
ing back from the dark, dreary repulsiveness of the 
neglected and festering graveyard, that the little dying 
girl exclaimed, " Bury me in the garden, mother ! bury 
me in the garden !" Was it not from the desire that in 
the early spring the apple- blossoms might fall upon her 
little grave, and that the flowers might bloom, and the 
birds sing, and sunshine fall all around where she 
peacefully slept ? And was it not the same instinct that 
prompted the dying boy to ask whether his little sister 
wouldn't come and plant favorite flowers on his grave, 
and whether she and mother wouldn't come, in the long 
summer evenings, and sit and sing by his resting-place ? 
And did not the same feelings animate the bosom of 
Wilson, the great ornithologist, when he breathed the 
wish to be buried where the bu-ds might sing over his 
grave ? — a wish that has been literally fulfilled. We 
can not make graveyards cheerful ; neither can we 
dissociate from them solemn feelings and sad, painful 
reflections. It is not desirable we should do so ; but we 
can make them beautiful, lovely, ay, sweet and inviting, 
to the stricken, bereaved mourner, and fitting places for 
calm meditation and serious thought. 

The above reflections, suggested as alieady noted, 
brought up others related to the same subject, but 
invested with more importance and interest. I thought 
about death, as well as the grave ; and wondered whether 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 487 

onr feelings as Christians, concerning both, were not 
entirely too gloomy. In sermons and books, and obitu- 
aries, do we not speak of Death as that grim and ghastly 
tyrant that has waved his black scepter over all the 
generations of men, and made the march from lisping 
infancy to hoary age but a dark and dismal procession, 
under faneral banners and gloomy badges ? Do we not 
represent Death as an angel of darkness, whose visage 
is terrible, and w^hose touch is cold and remorseless as 
the grave ? Or as a skeleton specter, whose teeth rattle 
in the fieshless skull, and whose bony fingers grasp a 
keen-bladed scythe and ominous sand-glass ? Or as a 
dull-eyed, unfeeling potentate, arrayed in garments of 
gloom, and whose symbol of power is his dark and 
shadowy foot, placed remorselessly on the bosom of 
helpless humanity? That a busy, thoughtless world, 
sunk in sin, and feverishly grasping the gilded bauble 
of sensual pleasure, should, when it does think of death, 
have such a grim, gloomy specter rise up before it, and 
point threateningly to the dreary shades of the silent 
land from whose dark shores no voyager ever returns, 
is but in keeping with the fearful forebodings of a guilty 
conscience. 

But why may not the Christian, happy in a Savior' s 
love, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God, think 
of Death rather as a white-robed angel, radiant with the 
splendors of the City of God, and having at his azure 
girdle the golden keys of life, ready to open the myste- 
rious gates of the glorious future, and admit the weary 
pilgrim of earth to all the unmingled splendors of the 
home of the redeemed ? Even the ancient heathen rep- 
resented Death as a celestial messenger, who, with 



488 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

smiling face and folded wings, quietly extinguished the 
light of life 

In all ages of the world the military liero has been 
applauded, his name recorded in history, and his deeds 
celebrated in song. The chisel of the sculptor, the 
pencil of the painter, the harp of the minstrel, and the 
pen of the historian, have vied with each other in paying 
honor to his genius, and in eulogizing his bravery. 
While the more prominent or more fortunate of those 
who have hewed with their swords a pathway to fame, 
have been thus immortalized by history and art, the 
humble ballad literature of various nations, distinguished 
more for its chivalrous spirit and adaptation to the 
necessities of a rude age, than for its elegance of diction 
or literary taste, has embalmed, in rustic song or simple 
melody, the memories of less noted, but no less honor- 
able, heroes of humble name. 

The history of the war for the preservation of the 
Union is a record of personal bravery and self-sacrificing 
devotion, on the part of the loyal men and women of the 
nation, to which history furnishes no parallel. During 
those years of bloodshed and strife, our cities, and 
hamlets, and rural abodes — the luxurious dwellings of 
the city merchants, and the log cabins of our frontier 
farmers — have sent forth as heroic men as ever drew 
sword ; and they have furnished as illustrious examples 
of womanly tenderness, affection and love, blended with 
the truly heroic in self-sacrificing devotion and patient 
endurance, as the world has ever seen. No monumental 
brass or marble will ever receive for safe-keeping the 
names of all the heroes and heroines of that mighty 
struggle for freedom ; neither will the historian' s stately 
periods, nor the poet's touching lyrics, hand down to 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 489 

posterity the records of their noble deeds, or the requi- 
ems sung over their honored graves. The richly-carved, 
storied urn, may be costly and beautiful, but it will be 
broken in pieces and buried in the dust. The "ever- 
during brass" may be elaborately finished, and the 
names of the illustrious dead deeply engraved upon it, 
but it will corrode and waste away. The stately monu- 
mental marble may be solid in structure and imposing 
in appearance, but it, too, will crumble and decay. The 
historian's records may be just, and the poet's songs 
may be sweet, but they will all be marred by the fingers 
of hoary Time. But good thoughts and noble deeds 
never die. Like their author, they are immortal. They 
go marching down the ages with stately, steady tread, 
elevating and ennobling successive generations, and 
moving forward the shadows on the dial-plate of human 
destiny, long after the bosoms that gave them birth are 
buried beneath Oblivion' s wave. 

62 



490 souTHEBN prisons; 



CHAPTER XXXin. 

THE GRAND REVIEW. 

Close of the War. — The Great Review of the Armies. — The City of 
Washington. — My Discharge from the Army. 

God of peace ! — whose spirit fills 

All the echoes of our hills. 

Now the storm is o'er ; — 

O, let freemen be our sons ; 

And let future Washingtons 

Rise to lead their valiant ones. 

Till there's war no more. 

John Pierpont. 

When I rejoined my regiment the war was virtually 
ended. Gen. Lee still clnng desperately to his hold on 
Richmond, but the operations of the month of April, 
1865, utterly ruined his army and crushed out the Re- 
bellion. April 24th, the regiment moved through Peters- 
burg to City Point, and there took transports for Alex- 
andria, where they arrived April 27th. April 29th, it re- 
ported for duty with the First Brigade and Ninth Army 
Corps, and went into camp at Tanallytown. 

May 22d, we were ordered to Washington, and took 
part in the great review of the armies of the East and 
West, which continued for three days at Washing- 
ton. No such sight was ever before, or probably ever 
again will be, witnessed upon this continent. Three 
hundred thousand veteran soldiers were in line of 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 491 

march, and the capital was thronged with such a sea of 
human beings as I never witnessed congregated in any 
other place. The streets were lined so densely with per- 
sons from all sections of the country, some from dis- 
tances over 1,000 miles, that locomotion upon the side- 
walks during mid-day was simply impossible, and the 
soldiery completely filled the street from curbstone to 
curbstone. The fences, the windows, the housetops, 
the lamp-posts, the trees, everything upon which 
humanity could stand or hang or get support from, was 
filled with human beings. It is estimated that fuUy 
1,000,000 persons were in the City of Washington during 
those three days, besides the more than a quarter of a 
million of soldiers. The President, Gen. Grant, Gen. 
Sherman, Gen. Sheridan, and all the leading dignitaries 
of the country, civil and military, were gathered at the 
Capitol where they might see the heroes of the war pass 
in review. The spectacle was a most wonderful and 
brilliant one. The marching column embraced all arms 
of the service, the Cavalry, the Infantry, the Artillery, 
the Engineers, and all, officers and men, were in holiday 
attire, so far as such attire could be obtained in so brief 
a space for so vast a multitude of bronzed and war- 
worn veterans. The sight of the armies, as they thun- 
dered along the broad avenues, the Army of the East 
first, that of the West following, was wonderfully 
grand. Not only were their numbers imposing and 
their discipline great, but the beholders felt that every 
man in that phalanx was a hero, and every one who 
witnessed the pageant will carry the memory of it to his 
death-bed, and know that it wiU go down to history as 
the fitting grand close of the great civil war. 

During the period which succeeded, until June 3d, 



492 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

when I was mustered out of the service, I remained in 
Washington almost the entire time, viewing the city 
and reflecting upon its peculiarities and distinctive feat- 
ures. Of course in the brief space which can be allotted 
to the theme here, I can only give the general result of 
these studies, the principal facts of which I took note, 
and the impressions which these conveyed to my mind. 
Naturally, the stranger notices an almost infinite variety 
of faces, coming as men do here, from all quarters of 
the earth to transact business, and from all quarters of 
our vast country in the pursuit of honor, place and 
wealth, to be obtained by a short cut. One meets faces 
here which carry subtle mysteries into which the gazer 
can only peer ; rarely can he solve the problem. These 
faces belong to the higher order of men, men of pro- 
found thought, men who in long years of study and 
care have learned to veil their emotions and designs un- 
der an impenetrable mask. Such faces are to a degree 
false, and yet this mask must be worn to some extent 
by all men, especially by men engaged in carrying for- 
ward deep schemes, even though they be innocent ones. 
It seems one of the hard necessities of greatness to as- 
sume a coldness and reserve which may be entirely for- 
eign to the real man. Again, in passing through the 
thronged Washington streets one encounters faces 
which, as we pass them, attract no special attention, 
but afterward — perchance days, perhaps weeks, months, 
years — suddenly stand forth before the memory in 
distinct living light, and one wonders why he failed to 
remark the full power of that face before. In Washing- 
ton one not only sees the faces of all nationalities, but 
of all classes, and of persons bent upon all interests. 
The grave senator walks the street over which huriy 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 493 

both spruce and self-important Government clerks. 
Representatives in Congress meet pretty lobbyists or 
department employes, exchanging a friendly nod and 
smile when alone ; when in the lawful company of their 
wives and daughters calmly decorous, but keenly ob- 
servant of the furtive smile and imperceptible recogni- 
tion of the pretty girl upo*ii fhe pavement. And a class 
of faces of which one sees much in Washington are 
those of determined aspirants for places, men and 
women who may for years have been seeking some 
humble position, and whose faces bear the indelible im- 
pression of hope deferred until the heart has become 
indeed sick. Many of the faces seen here would reveal 
nothing were it not for the outlook in the eyes. Those 
cannot always lie. At times they will speak despite 
the utmost watchfulness of flie owmer, and they then 
reveal strange tales of the character of the heart within. 
Few really good faces, wearing the impress of happi- 
ness and scorning concealment, does one behold in 
Washington city. It is the last place upon the conti- 
nent where an honest young man, ambitious to become 
a useful, honorable member of society, or a pure young 
woman, desirous of retaining her virtue, should go. 

But in these reflections I am forgetting the mate- 
rial, part of the Capital. I strolled over most of the 
public buildings, the Capitol, the various department 
buildings, the Treasury and the libraries. Millions of 
money have now been expended to make Washington 
beautiful, and with success. The buildings are all of 
stone, in the highest orders of architecture, their walls 
on the interior covered with the most elaborate and 
beautiful of frescoes, the furniture of the richest and 
most costly woods and the upholstering gorgeous and 



494 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; 

expensive. Indeed, the wealth of the nation has been 
lavishly expended here for more than a century, and 
yet it is now gravely proposed to remove the Capital 
bodily to St. Louis or some other point nearer the cen- 
ter of the country. It would undoubtedly be desirable 
if the Capital were more advantageously situated for all 
sections of the country, but it really cannot be that all 
the outlay and beauty that have been accumulated at 
Washington should now be abandoned and made for 
naught ; especially at the close of a long war, when the 
national treasury is alarmingly depleted. 

I visited Downing' s Restaurant, kept by George T. 
Downing, a colored man of most elegant manners, in a 
couple of rooms in the Capitol building, and where the 
Congressmen and other gentlemen of position lunch 
themselves and escort their lady friends to dinner or 
lunch. Much curious society can be observed here. 
Senators, with their wives and daughters, sit near re- 
presentatives accompanied by beautiful ladies who cer- 
tainly are not either then- wives or daughters, and yet 
seem provokingly familiar with our national legislators. 
Eminent clergymen dine at little tables, near by which 
sit great gamblers and unprincipled lobbyists. 

And in this connection I ascertained that Washing- 
ton is reeking with gambling-hells, situated mainly on 
the stately Pennsylvania avenue or upon streets run- 
ning into it, and where gambling operations are carried 
on upon a gigantic scale All other kinds of vice which 
can be prosecuted in a decorous manner also abounds in 
this city of pleasure, but no such disgraceful exhibitions 
of brutality, outrage and riot are witnessed here as can 
be seen in the streets of New York at any time Things 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 495 

are carried on in Washington with a careful regard to 
the outer forms of propriety at least. 

There are not many handsome residences in the city 
itself, the houses of the wealthy and great being chiefly 
tall, plain brick buildings, evincing little beauty out- 
wardly, but elegantly furnished and fitted up within. 
But in the villages which lie at a little distance from the 
heart of the city, and in the suburbs, there are some 
exceedingly charming places. Thp White House, or 
executive mansion, is situated on Pennsylvania avenue, 
near the western end of the city, and is built of free- 
stone, painted white, from which comes its name. It 
contains two lofty suites of rooms, but is built in a style 
of architecture that savors of many years ago, and to 
the modern eye looks ungraceful, though the building 
has cost a vast sum of money, and at the accession of 
each President has been refurnished, so that its total 
expense for refitting and furnishing has been enormous. 
When I say that the cost of living at the Capital is 
excessive ; that it is impossible to obtain comfort even 
without paying three or four times what one' s accom- 
modations are really worth ; that the life of a depart- 
ment clerk almost invariably leads a man into a mere 
routine of duties unfitting him for all practical and use- 
ful business in the world, and generally leaves him a 
poor man after several years of service, then to be thrust 
out into the world with no useful occupation ; it may 
be that the rage for clerkships will moderate, at all 
events among the readers of this work, and a desire for 
healthful, manly work be substituted in its place. And, 
in concluding my thoughts concerning Washington, I 
may sum it all up in this declaration, that the Capital 
, is well enough for the great men of the nation and for 



496 SOUTHERN PRISONS; 

those who have there legitimate business to transact, 
but for all others, men in moderate circumstances, 
women who can earn honest livelihoods or those who 
have the support and care of fathers, Washington is in 
all respects an undesirable city either to visit at great 
length or of which to make a permanent residence. 

June 3d, I was mustered out of the service at Detroit, 
and proceeded at once to arrange my business affairs 
before going to the South in search of my wife. 

And thus ended four years of service in the Union 
ranks, of which a little over one year was spent in 
Southern prisons and the remainder in active service 
with a regiment whose reputation is unsurpassed for 
gallantry and devotion to its country's cause. Its 
heroism has been proved in the hardest battles of the 
war ; its dead lie on almost every great field of the 
Rebellion ; of its members who went forth to the conflict 
but a skeleton remains, and as one of those few, it is 
fitting that I should narrate its glories and its losses, 
and I therefore append the following list of the battles 
and skirmishes in wliich the regiment was engaged : 

BATTLES AND SKIRMISHES. 



South Mountain, Md., Sept. 14, 

1862. 
Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. 
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 12, 13, 

14, 1862. 
Siege of Vicksburg, Miss., June 

22, to July 4, 1863. 
Jackson, Miss., July 11, to 18, 

1863. 
Blue Spring, Tenn., Oct. 10, 1863. 
Loudon, *' Nov, 14, " 



Lenoir Station, Tenn., Nov. 15, 

1863. 
Campbell's Station Tenn., Nov. 

16, 1863. 
Siege of Knoxville, Tenn., Nov. 

17 to Dec. 5, 1863. 
Thurley's Ford, Tenn., Dec. 15, 

1863. 
Fort Saunders, Tenn., Dec. 29, 

1863. 



OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 



497 



Strawberry Plains, Tenn., Jan 

22, 1864. 
Wilderness, Va., May 5, 6 and 

7, 1864. 
Ny. River, Virginia, May 9, 1864. 
Spottsylvania, Va., May 10, 11 

and 12, 1864. 
North Anna, Va., May 24, 1864. 
Bethesda Church, Va., June 2 and 

3, 1864. 
Coal Harbor, Va., June 7, 1864. 
Petersburg, Va., June 17 and 18, 

1864. 
The Crater, Va., July 30, 1864. 
Welder. R. R., Va„ Aug. 19 and 

21, 1864. 
63 



Reams' Station, Va., Aug. 25, 

1864. 
Poplar Spring Church, Va., Sept. 

30, 1864. 
Pegram Farm, Va., Oct. 2, 1864. 
Boydton Road, Va. Oct. 8, 

1864. 
Hatcher's Run, Va., Oct. 27 and 

28, 1864. 
Fort Steadman, Va., March 25, 

1865. 
Capture of Petersburg, Va., April 

3, 1865. 
Siege of Petersburg, Va., from 
June 17, 1864, to April 3, 1865. 



SOUTHERN PRISONS 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

JOSIE'S DEATH. 

My Return to Florence and Restoration to My Wife —Return to the 
North — Her Sinking Away and Death. 

Happy they ! 

Thrice fortunate ! who of that fragile mould. 

The precious porcelain of human clay. 

Break with the first fall : they can ne'er behold 

The long year link'd with heavy day on day. 

And all which may be borne and never told. 

Byron. 

From the time of my discharge I had but one leading 
object in life, the recovery of my darling, and after ar- 
ranging my business concerning some property which I 
owned in Michigan, and making a business engagement 
to take effect when I should again return from the 
South, I at once set out upon my journey. I went to 
Cleveland, thence to Harrisburg, Pa., and thence by 
way of Baltimore to Washington, arriving there June 
28th. I ascertained that the great line of railroad to the 
South, running through Richmond, Weldon and Flor- 
ence, was now open again, having very speedily been 
renewed at the close of the war, and I determined to 
avail myself of that. Accordingly, I proceeded directly 
to Richmond, and now the blight which the wa-r had 
visited upon the South commenced to be fearfully ap- 



OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOmE OF FLOKENCE. 499 

parent. From the time tlie train, which ran very 
slowly, left Alexandria until the time it reached Rich- 
mond the way was one scene of desolation. The fences 
which formerly separated the farms had all been torn 
down long ago to fnrnish wood for the camps of the two 
hostile armies or to facilitate military movements across 
the country. No crops had for years been raised 
throughout this section, as it was a constant battle 
ground and the farmers had abandoned their fields to 
that grim enemy, war. Over the whole line the remains 
of blackened dwellings and granaries torn to pieces or 
burned to the ground, showed where fire had been 
called in to aid the ruin wrought by the sword. There 
were no railway stations, save perchance some di- 
lapidated building which was now employed for such 
purposes. The country, too, seemed deserted ; there 
were no inhabitants ; the young men had been drained 
into the arniy long ago, and most of them slept in sol- 
diers' graves ; the old men, the women and the young 
children had fled South before the advancing Union 
armies, and sought new and more secure homes in the 
heart of the so-called Confederacy. Everything was 
desolate, lonely, poverty-stricken and wretched. The 
few people gathered at the leading railway halting 
places stared wofully at the passengers upon the train, 
a fiendish look of hatred sometimes flashing over their 
dull faces as something reminded them of the Yankees, 
and then they cursed the North fiercely and loudly. 
But usually there was exhibited a dull, painful sense of 
defeat, as though their calamities had stunned them and 
they could only muse over them in silence 

Richmond looked as though struck with the plague. 
From being the great store-house of the Confederate 



500 SOUTHEEN PEisoisrs; 

army and a depot where a vast amount of business was 
necessarily transacted, it sank in a day, on that Sunday 
when the Union forces broke in, to an almost ruined 
city, where no business was done. Its citizens congre- 
gated in little knots on the pavements or in the half 
deserted stores and mused upon the strange works of 
the past two months ; wondered what their condition 
was likely to be in the restored Union, expressed a 
most salutary apprehension and horror of confiscation, 
and then separated drearily to their poverty-stricken 
homes, there to chew tobacco as the only solace left. 
In fact the only class of people at the South who at this 
period enjoyed happiness were the blacks. They saw 
their deliverance accomplished and rejoiced in it won- 
drously, beholding the fruition of the poet's prophecy. 

Ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves 
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls her waves. 

The fair daughters of the " sunny South " would at 
this time have been more appropriately called "she- 
devils." Their mortification at the defeat of the lost 
cause, their hatred of the North, their malice toward 
everything pertaining to Northern institutions, were such 
that the whole female sex in the South seemed mad, 
and the individuals were capable of any rudeness, any 
wickedness almost. 

Passing south of the late Rebel capital, the country 
became more thickly settled. As the war had not to 
any great extent inflicted its ravages upon that section, 
the farms seemed to have suffered comparatively little ; 
but as we passed south, the country grew wilder, and 
the road for many miles ran through dense forests and 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIKE OF FLORENCE. 601 

black gloomy swamps. All ! how well I knew tMs 
whole country! In Richmond I had looked over at 
Belle Island and gazed upon what was formerly the 
scene of the barbarous confinement of myself and thous- 
ands of others, with feelings mitigated by the enjoyment 
of liberty and the consciousness of victory, but in which 
there was still much of the bitterness of death. As I 
gazed from the train out into the recesses of the fearful 
swamps, how well I remembered when they to me were 
places of refuge, longed for havens of safety from the 
fierce bloodhounds and the equally savage Rebels. As 
I thought of my position a year before and contrasted 
it with my present situation, I thanked the Creator for 
his goodness, I reveled in delight at the joy before me, 
and I very much fear I uttered a hearty malediction 
against all rebels, and against the Rebels of the South 
in particular. 

My thoughts had, during my whole journey, been 
tinged with apprehension concerning my wife, as to her 
safety, her welfare, and even her present location. I 
had made no arrangement for holding correspondence 
with her when I last saw her, of course, having been 
suddenly and unexpectedly separated from her, being 
ignorant when I might expect to regain my liberty and 
being utterly at a loss to know what my immediate 
future would be even if I were exchanged. Thus I had 
never heard from her or concerning her at all since my 
final incarceration at Florence. 

I reached this village, the scene of so much suffering, 
late in the afternoon, after a very long and tedious ride 
from Richmond. Unavoidably my mind reverted to the 
prison, and a muttered curse escaped my lips, but with 
that the Florence prison pen passed into a memory, and 



502 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; 

my mind reverted with redoubled force towards the 
object of my journey, the recovery of my darling. By 
the time I had reached a miserable hotel and got a horse 
saddled (an excellent and speedy one, by the way,) it 
was quite dark ; but I was only the more anxious to 
proceed. The voluminous inquiries^of the landlord as 
to whether I knew the road, I cut short by assuring him 
that I knew it quite well enough for my own satisfaction, 
and struck spurs into the animal and bounded away. 
I pushed directly, by the shortest route, for the house 
of Mr. Brown, the Leaguer. Two hours hard riding 
brought me within a short distance of it, and I then 
drew rein and went on at a walk, to still the tumultuous 
beatings of my heart. Anxiety, hope, fear, expectation, 
had fought a fierce battle in my heart during those two 
hours, only deadened by the fierce speed and the excite- 
ment of swift riding. Now, however, as I approached 
my fate, all these emotions in turn swayed me, and I 
thought for a moment my heart would burst its tenement 
of fiesh, as one emotion after another surged over me, 
and mastered my soul for the time. As I drew near the 
house, the feeling which took place of all others, was a 
deadly, sickening fear. I saw that a light was burning 
within ; got off" my horse, made him fast somehow to 
the fence, and then leaned against it myself, to recover 
from the horrible faintness which overcame me. A 
thousand apprehensions rushed upon me at once ; hope 
and fear, together with a hundred fearful imaginations, 
fiashed through my feverish brain, the nature of which 
I had never known before. She might have been com- 
pelled by circumstances to leave the vicinity ; she might 
be sick, she might be dead ! What might not my 
darling have suffered in the six months during which I 



OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF ELORET^CE. 508 

had neither seen her nor heard of her. The thought of 
the possibility of the awful calamity which I might yet 
undergo, crowning with one giant misfortune the dire 
calamities which I had already suffered, quite unmanned 
me, and for a moment I feared to move, lest my worst 
suspicions should he verified. Then came a great revul- 
sion of desperate energy. If my wife were dead, it 
were better that I should know it, and rid myself of the 
torment of doubt which now oppressed me. I pushed 
forward into the enclosure about the house, cautiously 
ascended the steps, and, without awaiting even the 
formality of knocking, opened the door and ehtered the 
room, which was used as a sitting and sewing room. 
My eyes, dazzled by the light, saw but two ladies sitting 
at the table. They rose up with an exclamation of 
surprise at my sudden entrance. I stepped forward, — 
both cried out some little inarticulate expressions of 
surprise, delight and recognition, and with a sob of 
happiness, my darling w^-s once more in my arms, hiding 
her blushing face upon my shoulder, while I, it must 
be owned, sank down into a chair with her and shed 
tears as I kissed her lips, her beautiful 'cheeks, her fair 
brow. Some minutes passed ere either could speak 
aught save little words of endearment, and Miss Lizzie 
cried heartily in sympathy with us. At last, stilling 
Josie's heaving breast and the little fluttering heart, we 
began to talk, and were soon aided by the entrance of 
Mr. Brown and his wife, who had been roused from 
their sleep by a commotion which created an unalterable 
impression in their minds that the Rebel cavalry had 
taken possession of the lower story. Their reception of 
me, however, was a hearty one, and more joyful than 
ever. My appearance was to them as that of one who 



OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOKENCE. 505 

but little hope. He said tlie seeds of serious disease 
were manifest and developed in her lungs, and that her 
constitution had been so overstrained that the result was 
very doubtful. And then for a month, with agony- 
such as cannot be painted, I saw my young wife fade 
away before me. She knew she was dying, but her 
courage and patience never forsook her. She grieved at 
leaving me so soon, but rejoiced that we had been re- 
united and that for even so brief a time we had rested in 
the holy confidence of husband and wife. To me it 
was utter agony. Nothing could comfort me, nothing 
console me. Now indeed I knew and appreciated the 
full meaning of the word despair. 

" Mine after life I what is mine after life ! 
My day is closed I The gloom of night is come I 
A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate.'" 

My dear wife vainly sought to reconcile me to this 
awful affliction. I feigned a resignation which at heart 
I could not feel. I never left her, but watched in agony 
over the wasting of her young life till she died peace- 
fully in ni}^ arms and I was stricken down with brain 
fever. The friends whom I had about me in that awful 
hour buried her in beautiful Greenwood, and in October 
I, a broken-hearted man, went to the new made grave 
and caused to be erected upon it a simple monument of 
white marble, with only the word " Josie" upon it. It 
stands now, in the summer, in the midst of violets, and 
every year I repair to the shrine where my affections 
are centered, and spend days in closer communion with 
the spirit of my dead wife. Her death came as the poet 
Bryant said death should come to one of her pure, gen- 
tle nature : • 

64 






i. ^V 



606 SOUTHERN PRISONS ', 

Death should come 
Gently to one of gentle mould, like thee, 
As light winds wandering through groves of bloom. 
Detach the delicate blossoms from the tree. 
Close thy sweet eyes calmly, and without pain, 
And we will trust in God to see thee yet again. 



The End. 



'^**2^ 



